Nathan hadn’t slept.
Not really.
The hotel room—clinical white linens, humming AC, the skyline glittering with indifferent lights—offered no peace. He had lain there, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while Veronica’s words pounded through his mind like footsteps in an empty hallway.
"It ends when I say it does."
What the hell had happened to her?
To Vince?
The Vince he remembered wore baggy hoodies and carried notebooks full of half-finished stories. The Vince who ducked behind Mark when he got nervous around new people. The Vince who never raised his voice, who apologized too much, who loved Mark like a brother, a hero, a lighthouse.
And now? That same person—reborn, renamed, rebranded as Veronica—had stood before him like a stranger wearing someone else’s ski
