"Already on it. But Commander..." She showed him another screen. "Sophia's at the courthouse. She's trying to file a restraining order against Marcus. Claims he's been threatening her." "She's waiving her anonymity. Going public." "Yes." That changed things. A woman who'd once chosen status over safety was now choosing confrontation over comfort. The test subject was rewriting the experiment. "Send a protection detail," Ethan ordered. "Discreet. Not Dragon Guards. Civilians. People who blend." "And if she sees them?" "She won't." He looked out at the city passing by. "She's learning to see what matters. That's a harder skill than it looks." The SUV stopped at a light. Outside, a newsstand displayed the morning papers. The headline screamed: **WELLINGTON SCION TO WALK FREE? EX-WIFE FEARS FOR SAFETY.** There was a photo of Sophia, looking tired but determined, leaving the courthouse. In the background, barely visible, was Ethan's garbage truck. The irony wasn't lost on him. Hi

"Already on it. But Commander..." She showed him another screen. "Sophia's at the courthouse. She's trying to file a restraining order against Marcus. Claims he's been threatening her." "She's waiving her anonymity. Going public." "Yes." That changed things. A woman who'd once chosen status over safety was now choosing confrontation over comfort. The test subject was rewriting the experiment. "Send a protection detail," Ethan ordered. "Discreet. Not Dragon Guards. Civilians. People who blend." "And if she sees them?" "She won't." He looked out at the city passing by. "She's learning to see what matters. That's a harder skill than it looks." The SUV stopped at a light. Outside, a newsstand displayed the morning papers. The headline screamed: **WELLINGTON SCION TO WALK FREE? EX-WIFE FEARS FOR SAFETY.** There was a photo of Sophia, looking tired but determined, leaving the courthouse. In the background, barely visible, was Ethan's garbage truck. The irony wasn't lost on

"Already on it. But Commander..." She showed him another screen. "Sophia's at the courthouse. She's trying to file a restraining order against Marcus. Claims he's been threatening her." "She's waiving her anonymity. Going public." "Yes." That changed things. A woman who'd once chosen status over safety was now choosing confrontation over comfort. The test subject was rewriting the experiment. "Send a protection detail," Ethan ordered. "Discreet. Not Dragon Guards. Civilians. People who blend." "And if she sees them?" "She won't." He looked out at the city passing by. "She's learning to see what matters. That's a harder skill than it looks." The SUV stopped at a light. Outside, a newsstand displayed the morning papers. The headline screamed: **WELLINGTON SCION TO WALK FREE? EX-WIFE FEARS FOR SAFETY.** There was a photo of Sophia, looking tired but determined, leaving the courthouse. In the background, barely visible, was Ethan's garbage truck. The irony wasn't lost on

The stench of rot clung to Ethan Cole's uniform as he hoisted another black bag into the compactor truck, the hydraulic crusher grinding with a sound like bones breaking. Three weeks since the Gala. Two since he'd watched his mother walk out of his penthouse. One since he'd learned his entire life was a lie written in his father's handwriting. And yet here he was, back in the role that had started it all—because sometimes the only way to see the board clearly was to stand where nobody looked.The Harrison Hills neighborhood was a different kind of prison than the one his mother had built in glass and steel. Here, the mansions were just as big, the lawns just as manicured, but the people carried a different scent: old tobacco money mixed with desperation. These were the families who'd watched the Wellington scandal on the news and thanked God they'd only been spectators. They hadn't realized the show was just getting started."Hey! Garbage man!" The voice cut through the morning air li

The stench of rot clung to Ethan Cole's uniform as he hoisted another black bag into the compactor truck, the hydraulic crusher grinding with a sound like bones breaking. Three weeks since the Gala. Two since he'd watched his mother walk out of his penthouse. One since he'd learned his entire life was a lie written in his father's handwriting. And yet here he was, back in the role that had started it all—because sometimes the only way to see the board clearly was to stand where nobody looked.The Harrison Hills neighborhood was a different kind of prison than the one his mother had built in glass and steel. Here, the mansions were just as big, the lawns just as manicured, but the people carried a different scent: old tobacco money mixed with desperation. These were the families who'd watched the Wellington scandal on the news and thanked God they'd only been spectators. They hadn't realized the show was just getting started."Hey! Garbage man!" The voice cut through the morning air li