The weeks that followed were a study in steadiness. We opened new donor channels, tightened mentorship curriculums, and watched the incubator teach a small squad of teenagers to code. The work answered the gossip with the only thing that mattered: impact. Still, the market never entirely slept. A low, speculative piece about our unorthodox domestic arrangement surfaced in a niche culture blog. It was neither vicious nor persuasive — just the kind of taste that some readers chew on until it becomes a line of conversation over dinner tables.
I read it and felt an old, reflexive heat of irritation rise. But the irritation was tempered by experience. Conley handled the legal replies; Angel pushed another round of human stories out to social feeds that evening; I penned a short, candid op-ed f
