knew who the real victim was, but the weight of that knowledge was a heavy burden. He drove

f a reading lamp. The television was on, volume low, and a half-finished crossword puzz

is knees. He walked over and wrapped his arms around his father' s sho

er asked, his voice full of warmth

d at his father, truly looked at him, and saw the lines of a life lived with integrity and kindn

n't ask why Liam was suddenly considering a move. He

for your career, son. I'll s

two of them talking about everything and nothing, the quiet companionship a soothing balm on h

ble as a makeshift memorial. On it, next to a single white candle, was a framed photograph. It was a picture of Liam' s

on her face. She clearly expected him to be moved

said, her voice soft and cloying

le, picked up the frame without a word, and dropped it into

papers," he said, hi

ith you? I was joking about the divorce! It was a

d of her endless, exhausting manipulation. He refused

to sound conciliatory. "Look, if you're upset about the funeral, don't be. I'll arrange a grand one fo

red at her, u

do something for me. People are starting to talk. Rumors are spreading about Mark's involvement in.

never about his father, or her father. It was a

in his mind. He gave her a mock

p with relief and

rce papers. No contests, no delays. Sign them, an

ivious to his true intent. She thought she

"Oh, by the way, Mark was complaining about his wrist ac

r Liam had complained about long hours at the computer. It was a small thing, but it was a symbol of his father's quiet, co

f indifference. Inside, he was meticulously pla

nd, ready to go comfort her partner in c

ker of something-annoyance, perhaps-in he

mile, the first genuine sm

aid softly. "You'll