Michael didn’t ask Ángel how he was. Maybe he had in the original email, and Chandler had edited it out. There was an attachment: a Word document that Michael said was a letter from their mother. Ángel wondered again if the Ponzi scheme had been hers, or her husband’s. It must have been. Somehow she’d gotten Victor to pay the price for it. Somehow she’d gotten Ángel to pay the price for it, and he hadn’t even known about it. Ángel shook his head, deleted the letter unread, and replied to his brother: I know you’re not a message boy between me and Mom. But I’m not reading anything from her, okay? Tell her not to send any more. I got the message when she told me to come here.

There was no email from Marissa. Ángel suppressed the intense desire to send her another one, begging her to reply.

He retreated to his cave under the bed to try to sleep. It was less dusty today; apparently Lily had vacuumed under the bed, and had also pulled the peacock green comforter off the bed and folded it underneath like a sleeping bag, arranging two pillows at one end.

He needed comfort, so in hurried, intense silence, he jerked off. He felt even more alone when he was done.

The security goons were in the house when Ángel came down the next morning. Oberon was talking quietly with Chandler Evanston in the lavender dining room while Ángel prepared his tea and toast. One of the goons, a handsome Asian man, had his arm around Lily. That must be her husband. The young goon who had searched Ángel, Logan—the one who had said that Oberon gave him the willies—was here, too, carrying an overnight bag. He looked nervous.

Oberon came into the kitchen while Ángel was squeezing water out of his teabag. “I’m going to New York,” he said. His voice and face were inscrutable. “My foundation gave some money to schools there, and they’re having a banquet. Chandler is coming with me, but a small security team is remaining here to protect you. John Va is in command, if you need anything.”

“Okay.” Ángel tucked his hair behind his ears. “Oberon?”

“Yes, Ángel?”

“Did I get any email?” He was conscious that Chandler and the rest of the team were listening.

“No,” said Oberon.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Oberon turned to Lily. “Lily, when you go to town tomorrow, will you please pick up some winter clothes for Ángel? A coat, and some boots. He doesn’t have any warm things.”

“Of course,” said Lily.

“Thank you. I will be back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Can I go to the store too?” asked Ángel.

Oberon briefly met Ángel’s eyes. “No,” he said, and walked out, Chandler and the rest of the security team falling in behind him.