A fresh blanket of snow had transformed Geneva's Cathédrale Saint‑Pierre into a silent ivory monument by the time Ivy Shen slipped inside for the evening's candlelight service. Pine boughs and lanterns lined the nave, warming the chill air with soft fragrance. Lucian Shen followed behind, his breath clouding in the lantern light, coat collar turned up against the wind.
They'd come at Dawn Shen's request: a memorial vigil for the lives saved by the Shen Foundation and Meridian Institute. But for Lucian, the night held another purpose. He cradled a sealed envelope in his gloved hand—his last tether of doubt.
**—**
Ivy knelt at the front row, head bowed, eyes closed in quiet prayer for loved ones lost and futures reclaimed. Lucian sat beside her, gaze flicking to the Gothic arches overhead
