An older man stepped in.
He stopped short when he saw me.
And I knew.
Not because I recognized his face—but because I felt it. The echo. The genetic certainty that lived in posture and presence more than features.
“I didn’t know there would be … company,” he said quietly.
Portia’s voice cooled. “This is Joy. Micah’s—” she paused, then chose carefully, “—someone important.”
His gaze softened with something like regret. “I see.”
I stood before I realized I was moving. “Where is he?”
The man hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“He ran,” the man said finally. “And I don’t blame him.”
Anger flared sharp and fast. “You don’t get to explain him.”
His shoulders sagged slightly. “No. I don’t.”
He told me some of it then—not excuses, not redemption. Just truth stripped down to bones. Threats. Choices made in fear and arrogance. A decision to disappear rather than endanger the family he loved.
“You don’t vanish from seven children and call it protection,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he said. And the pain in his voice was real.
“Where would Micah go?” I asked.
The man hesitated.
Not the thoughtful pause of a man searching his memory—but the kind that came when there was no memory to search. When you were standing in front of the consequences of having never truly known someone.
“I don’t know him,” he said finally, and the admission cost him. “Not anymore. Maybe, I never did.”
That rang truer than anything else he’d said.
“But,” he continued, “I know the kind of man he became. I know what happens when men like Micah lose their footing.”
My pulse picked up. “What happens?”
“They go somewhere they can think,” Byron said. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere open. Somewhere they don’t have to perform.”
He glanced toward the tall windows, beyond the manicured grounds, toward the water stretching unseen but implied.
“When I disappeared,” he added quietly, “I ran to the edge of things. Places where you can stare at something bigger than yourself and let it swallow the noise.”
The words settled heavy in my chest.
“You think he’d do the same,” I said.
The man nodded once. “If he’s hurting, yes. If he’s trying not to break in front of people, especially.”
Portia shifted beside him. “There are a handful of places like that around here.”
