He sat up fast, ready to run. Instead he saw Victor Harrington standing in the doorway of the warehouse, alone, no security visible. Just a tall white man in a perfectly tailored coat that probably cost more than Marcus had seen in his lifetime.
“You’re the one who saved my wife,” Victor said. It wasn’t a question.
Marcus shrugged. “Anybody would’ve.”
“No,” Victor replied. “They wouldn’t.”
A long silence.
“I’m not here to hand you cash and walk away,” Victor continued. “That would be insulting. My wife and I talked. We want to do more than that—if you’ll let us.”
Marcus stared at the ground. “I ain’t lookin’ for charity.”
“Good. Because this isn’t charity.” Victor crouched so they were eye-level. “It’s a chance. A real one. School—private, boarding if you want, or day if you don’t. A room in our guest house until you’re ready for your own place. Tutors, therapy, whatever you need. No strings. You walk away anytime, no questions.”
Marcus swallowed. “Why?”