Wednesday morning arrived with the sound of rain against the window, a steady, rhythmic tapping that seemed to seal the house off from the rest of London. It was a heavy rain, the kind that blurred the outlines of the trees in the garden and turned the pavement on the street into a dark, reflective mirror. I woke up slowly, the transition from sleep to wakefulness feeling less like a jump and more like a surfacing from deep water. The bed was warm, the duvet heavy, but Marcus was already gone. I could hear the shower running in the ensuite bathroom, the water hitting the tiles with a hollow echo that traveled through the walls. I lay there for a moment, listening to the house settle into its daytime rhythm. The security system had been disarmed an hour ago; I knew the code by heart now, th
