Marcus, watching from the edges, had begun feeling something unexpected for the baby. Tenderness, maybe. Not because Oliver belonged to a family that had ever shown Marcus much kindness, but because the child himself was innocent. Too small to understand what kind of kingdom he had been born into. Marcus sometimes timed his walks to school so he could pass the nursery window at sunrise, when the baby was lifted to the light.
Maybe, in some quiet way, Marcus recognized another child trapped inside a world he had not chosen.
The Tuesday the plant arrived, Marcus had been walking home from school along the service road when he saw the delivery van. Mr. Harrison signed for the package and carried in a gorgeous plant with bell-shaped flowers and a slick shimmer to its leaves. Marcus noticed the residue left on the gardener’s gloves and felt unease coil in his stomach. He knew he recognized it, but the memory stayed just out of reach until later, after the sirens came.
That evening three ambulances shot through the estate gates, followed by black SUVs and helicopters descending onto the lawn. His mother burst into the cottage, pale with terror.