"When you see this, I’ll be gone," Haven says into her phone, rain pushing at the screen. She holds the device with both hands because the tremor makes single-handed control impossible. The grave marker blurs when she blinks. She squints, reads her father’s name aloud the way she used to read captions at openings. "Dad. Kenzo Yoshida. Brother—Toma." She lays the phone on a wet sketchbook and lets the camera take everything. She pulls a folded card from her coat pocket. The paper is thick. Her fingers don't trust the fold. Her voice stays level when she reads the line printed in a serif that smirks: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sterling Cole and Julianne Morales, December 15, Intercontinental Hotel. She laughs without humor. "Julianne," she says. "The face. The smile. The cloak." A thin red line appears at her nostril. She presses a thumb there and curses. Blood wets the corner of the invitation. She doesn't wipe it away. She presses the invitation against a page of designs—a necklace looped around a sketch of a pendant she drew a year before the awards, the piece that got her fired. She says the name again into the camera. "This is theirs now. They stole my work and paraded it as their charity." She spits. Blood arcs onto the sketch. The mark blooms across a bead and a clasp. She drags the paper across the page, smudging graphite into red. The smear