Marcus sat wrapped in a blanket in the hallway outside the nursery, waiting for whatever came next. No one had called the police. No one had shoved him off the property. A nurse had brought him water and a sandwich. He couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Inside the nursery, the remaining doctors ran final tests and spoke in subdued voices. The baby’s color had returned. His breathing was steady.
Dr. Tanaka was the first to approach Marcus.
“We were wrong,” she said quietly. “All of us. You saw what we didn’t.”
She apologized and walked away.
At sunrise, Arthur Kensington sent for Marcus.
The billionaire’s study was larger than Marcus’s entire cottage. Wall-to-wall bookshelves. A desk like a piece of architecture. Windows overlooking gardens Marcus had spent his life crossing only in shadows.
Arthur looked wrecked. He held a folder thick with reports, and his hands shook slightly.
“The plant was a gift,” he said. “A congratulatory gift for my son’s three-month birthday. It came from Marcus Webb.”
Marcus didn’t know the name, but the way Arthur said it told him enough.
“My former business partner,” Arthur continued. “My oldest friend. My son’s godfather.”