I was changing my shoes in the entryway. My voice stayed level. “Don't bother with the guest room. The apartment's yours now, take your time settling in. Grace, we're done.”

Henry's eyes reddened at once. “Elmer, this is all my fault. I'll leave right now, please don't joke about the wedding.”

But Grace put out a hand to stop him, her eyes going cold. “Let him go.”

She leaned against the doorframe, her voice holding down a fire. “You walk out that door today, don't expect me to come coax you back. Come home and apologize within three days, and I'll pretend none of this happened.”

I pulled the door open.

Grace spoke again. “Elmer, don't count on me to smooth things over with your parents. When they start asking, you can explain it yourself.”

My steps stalled for half a second.

For three years my mother had told everyone she'd landed a wonderful daughter-in-law, holding the liquor and cigarettes the Gilberts gave, laughing until her face flushed in front of the relatives.

Grace knew I was afraid of letting them down, so every time she could hit my weak spot dead on.

Henry twisted the knife softly. “Elmer, your parents adore Grace so much. Isn't this a little selfish of you?”

I turned back and looked at Grace. “Changing the name on the invitation, bringing him to meet my family, letting him sleep in the master bedroom, is that me being selfish too?”

Grace fell silent for a beat, then quickly recovered her arrogance. “We'll deal with all that later. Don't stand in the doorway putting on a show. For whom?”

I set the keys down on the shoe cabinet.

Grace finally saw them, and the space between her brows twitched, barely noticeable. “You're leaving these behind too?”

I said, “You just said yourself the apartment was your money. Since even the master bedroom has someone new in it now, it wouldn't be right for me to keep this key.”

Her face darkened instantly. “Elmer, do you really have to make everything so final?”

I didn't answer. I wheeled my suitcase into the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, Grace's voice chased after me. “Elmer, once you walk out that door, don't think you can beg me and get it back!”

The elevator went down. I tossed the spare key card into the trash.

On my phone, Director Shelton from the shelter had sent a message. “Elmer, the National Geographic documentary team is coming tomorrow to shoot some charity footage. Could you help out one more day before you leave? They happen to be hiring a highland medical consultant, and I think you'd be a great fit.”

I replied with an okay.

The screen had barely gone dark when Henry's social feed refreshed.

He was standing at the master bedroom's floor-to-ceiling window, captioned: “After all the wandering, finally back in the place where my heart feels safest.”

Early the next morning, I took my suitcase to the shelter.

I changed into scrubs, the familiar smell of disinfectant washing over me.

I was bent over the last post-op puppy, turning down its heat lamp, when a burst of noise came from the yard.

Director Shelton walked into the treatment room wiping his hands, his expression grim. “Elmer, the documentary team was supposed to be filming, but Henry's people muscled their way in.”

My fingers went still. “Who approved that?”

Director Shelton lowered his voice. “The sponsor called in a favor at the last minute, said he's got a compassionate image to film. Grace came too. That director from the documentary, Ms. Graves, her face went dark. She's standing off to the side with her camera, smiling coldly.”

I walked out to the yard. Henry stood in front of the kennels in a clean white shirt, the cameras circling him.

He bent down to pick up a yellow puppy that had just been spayed. I clamped a hand on the cage door. “It's less than twenty-four hours post-op. You can't hold it.”

Henry looked up at me, his smile all innocence. “Elmer, I just want everyone to see how cute it is. If people love it, that's when they'll donate.”

Grace stood off camera, frowning. “Elmer, don't make this ugly.”

I stared into her eyes. “The wound hasn't healed. If something happens to it, who takes responsibility?”

Henry dropped his eyes, the picture of wounded innocence. "Grace, let it go. Elmer's probably still angry with me."

Somebody on the streaming crew muttered under their breath, "That vet's a real piece of work. No wonder people online say the shelter lets in anyone."

Grace's hand closed around my wrist. Not hard, just enough to make me let go of the cage door. "Two minutes of filming. Don't blow this out of proportion."

Henry took the opening and hauled the puppy out. It thrashed against the pain, claws catching in his shirt cuff.

Distaste flickered in his eyes, and his fingers suddenly opened.

The puppy hit the marble floor hard. The sutures split, and blood welled up fast.

I dropped down and pressed on the wound, shouting to Director Shelton, "Gauze, epinephrine, now!"

Henry shrieked and stumbled back. The camera lurched wildly, and before the stream cut out, the comment feed had already filled with accusations.

Grace had gone pale, but her first move was to steady Henry. "Did it scratch you?"

Director Shelton came running with the first-aid kit, but the faint heartbeat under my hands had already stopped.

I looked up at her, hands soaked in blood. "Grace. It's dead."

She glanced at the blood on the floor, avoided my eyes, and lowered her voice. "Damage control first."

Half an hour later, Henry posted a long statement hinting that the shelter had mishandled things, that he'd only been an innocent bystander lending a hand.

The abuse poured in online. The shelter's phone rang off the hook.

I went to pull the security footage, but the computer showed the file was corrupted. The tech guy's face was grim. "Somebody accessed the system remotely."

Grace's call came right after. Her tone was even. "Elmer, you posted the statement, right?"

I gripped the mouse. "What statement?"

She was quiet for a moment, like she was coaxing someone who didn't know any better. "Henry's about to sign a major endorsement deal. There can't be anything negative attached to him. You take the fall on this for now."

I opened my work account and saw an apology posted under my name.

It said I'd been careless, that my training methods were rough, that I'd frightened the puppy and caused it to fall to its death.

Grace kept going. "Once this blows over, I'll buy you a big place downtown. The wedding goes ahead as planned, and I'll change the invitations back."

I hit record on the call and asked, "My account. You logged into it?"

She said, "Your password's one of the same few you always use. I posted it for you. It's more presentable than anything you'd have written yourself."

I let out a short laugh. "How thoughtful of you."

Grace thought I'd softened. Her voice eased. "Behave, and once this is over, your place as the man of the Gilbert family is still yours."

The uproar kept building. Someone set a funeral wreath outside the clinic, and a sign was stuck to the glass: DOG-ABUSING VET, GET OUT.

Director Shelton shielded me as we headed for the back door, his eyes rimmed red with panic. "Elmer, lie low for a while. I'll figure something out."

I wheeled my suitcase out, pulled the SIM card as I went, snapped it in two, and dropped it in the trash.

I'd bought the ticket to Lhasa a while ago anyway. It was as good a time as any to go see that highland wildlife rescue project Director Shelton had recommended.

The train gave a jolt, and the phone hooked into the car's public WiFi buzzed.

In the dark, someone using an unfamiliar account had sent me a high-definition video.