After Victoria went upstairs to answer emails, Marcus locked the study door behind them and backed Elena against the desk without speaking. His hands shoved under her sweater and covered the lower marks with firm, deliberate pressure until every hidden bruise flared at once. Elena’s breath broke. The tears that came this time were quiet and exhausted, more about the accumulated weight of the day than about any single conversation.

“She can feel the distance,” Elena whispered. “Jordan can feel the gap. Rosa is still collecting small things twice a week. It’s coming from every direction and I don’t know how much longer the careful answers are going to hold.”...