The penthouse was a fortress of light and shadow, its marble floors reflecting the glow of Central Park's autumn canopy under a pale September moon. Byano stood frozen outside the guest bathroom door, his heart pounding like a war drum. Inside, Marcus had locked himself in, the latest tabloid headline—Norwood Son's Suicide Attempt—Father's Neglect Blamed—a vicious lie that had pushed his son to the edge. The article, a fresh salvo in Victoria's media war, had twisted Marcus's pier incident into a fabricated suicide attempt, painting Byano as the callous patriarch. Now, the clink of a pill bottle from behind the door confirmed Byano's worst fears. He knocked, his voice steady despite the panic clawing his chest. "Marcus, open the door. Please, son."
No response. Only silence, heavy and suffocating. Byano's mind raced—images of Marcus's journal, its raw poetry of despair, collided with memories of his own youth, when failure seemed a death sentence. He'd built an empire to shield his family, but it was crushing his son. Elena and Sophia were en route, alerted by Byano's frantic call, but time was slipping. He pressed his ear to the door, hearing a faint sob.
"Marcus, it's me," Byano said, softer now. "Those stories are lies. You're enough. You're everything. Let me in."
A muffled voice came through. "I can't, Dad. I'm... tired."
Byano's throat tightened. He called Dr. Carter, Marcus's therapist, who was already on her way. "Keep him talking," she instructed over the phone. "Remind him of his anchors—his sisters, you, his poetry."
Byano leaned against the door, his suit rumpled from a day of battling Victoria's leaks and Kessler's betrayal. "Marcus, remember Sophia's art show? You wanted to write for her next piece. She needs you. We all do."
A pause, then a click—the lock turning. Byano exhaled, pushing the door open. Marcus sat on the tiled floor, a bottle of old prescription pills unopened in his lap, his face streaked with tears. Byano knelt, pulling him into a hug, the boy's thin frame trembling. "I'm here," Byano whispered. "We'll get through this."
Dr. Carter arrived minutes later, her calm presence a lifeline. She spoke with Marcus, her voice soothing, guiding him through breathing exercises. "Marcus, you're stronger than you feel right now. Let's get you into a program—an intensive one, where you can focus on healing."
Marcus nodded, his eyes distant but less hollow. Byano watched, guilt and relief warring within him. He'd failed to shield his son from Victoria's schemes, from the media's venom, but he wouldn't fail now. Elena and Sophia burst in, their faces pale. Sophia dropped to Marcus's side, her curls wild. "Marc, you scared us. Don't do that again."
Elena gripped Byano's arm. "Dad, this is Mom's fault. Those headlines—she's killing him."
Byano's jaw clenched. "I know. I'm handling it."
Dr. Carter recommended an inpatient program in upstate New York, specialized for young adults with severe depression. Byano agreed instantly, covering costs, arranging transport. As Marcus packed a small bag, Byano met with his daughters in the living room, the city glittering beyond the windows. "I'm suing for defamation," he said. "Harlan's got proof—Victoria's lawyer's firm is linked to the leaks."
Sophia's eyes blazed. "She's gone too far. I'm posting online—my followers will spread the truth about your foundation, Dad."
Elena nodded, her mind on EcoThreads' crumbling deals. "I'm digging into Mom's accounts. If she's funding this, I'll find it."
Byano felt a surge of pride—his daughters, fierce and united. But the threats loomed: the anonymous emails, the brick, the wire transfer tying Victoria to Apex. He called Harlan, who was tracing the journalist's email trail. "We're close," Harlan said. "Found a burner account linked to Langston's assistant, Lydia. She's the key."
Byano drove Marcus to the program that night, the upstate facility a quiet haven of rolling hills and red-brick buildings. Marcus was silent, clutching his journal. "Dad," he said as they parted, "don't let her win."
"Never," Byano promised, his voice thick.
Back in the city, Byano worked late, coordinating with Evelyn and Harlan. The media storm raged, but Marcus's step toward healing was a flicker of hope. As he reviewed legal briefs, his phone buzzed—a new anonymous message: You can't save them all, Byano.
Cliffhanger: Sophia calls, panicked—her studio was vandalized, her climate change painting defaced with the words Norwood Lies.