remembered mysterious grants.
Unexpected approvals.
Bills that somehow vanished.
The things doctors called miracles.
My hands began shaking.
“You.”
He nodded.
“Me.”
The room blurred.
For years I thought strangers had helped us.
I thought fate had intervened.
But it had been Adrian.
Always Adrian.
Watching from a distance.
Trying to fix something impossible.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You should have come to us.”
“I know.”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I know.”
Every answer was the same.
Not defensive.
Not angry.
Just broken.
Then he handed
