Toby Cooper may have handed him an easy opening, but Joseph’s read on the play—and the follow?through—were still first-rate. Most people couldn’t make a decision that sharp, that fast.“Seems, old sir, you’ve already seen through everything.”Joseph smiled.“Hahaha, I wouldn’t go that far. What’s remarkable is that at your age you can anticipate the board, size up the moment, and act. That’s the rare skill.”“I’m an old man. If I see through your intentions, it’s only because I’ve lived long enough to recognize the pattern.”Blake Morgan laughed, genuinely pleased.“Well then, sir, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to campus.”“Work’s piled up lately—I’m a bit tied up.”Joseph checked the time and spoke.“Alright. I won’t keep you.”Blake Morgan stood as he said it.“Don’t say that, sir—you carved time out of a packed schedule to come here. If anyone’s in the way, it’s me getting in yours.”Joseph answered with easy modesty.“You’re always so polite,” Blake said, half helpless,

“I don’t know what General Joseph intends to do in the long run, but I do know what he needs right now.”“So, I’d like to propose a deal.”Wayne Gutierrez spoke without circling.“What do I need most at this moment?” Joseph asked.“Time.”“What you need most is time.”“And I want to put that on the table.”Wayne took a few measured steps.“I already have time,” Joseph said flatly.“You’ve won yourself some, yes—but not enough to be steady.”“You’ll need a long stretch. If you mean to accomplish anything, you require preparation, conditions, the right moment. Am I wrong?”“My father and I can move within the Central Council in Metropolis City, mediating and balancing, to secure you a stable environment—and the time you require.”Wayne laid it out.“And in return, what do you want from me?” Joseph asked.“My father often says: when the moon is full, it begins to wane; when a thing reaches its limit, it turns back.”“At present, the three Elders of the Central Council embody the interest

“I met him. Thought I’d give you a call. I can come over now if it’s convenient.”“If it’s too late, we can talk tomorrow.”“That’s fine—now works.”“Truth is, I’ve had your situation on my mind.”“If you’re coming, come now. We can talk properly.”“Alright. I’ll head over. Some things aren’t for the phone.”“Good. I’ll be here.”After a brief goodbye, Joseph started the car and drove to Blake Morgan’s residence.He knew the address.About thirty minutes later, he pulled up outside Blake’s villa.It was close to Morgan Group—ideal for Blake’s commute—so he lived here.Joseph got out, walked to the door, and rang the bell.Blake opened it shortly after.“Joseph, you’re here. Come in.”“Good evening, sir,” Joseph said politely.Inside, the villa was far larger than Alice’s place. Aside from Blake and a few staff who saw to his daily needs, it felt empty.“Let’s go upstairs—my study.”“Tea and talk.”Blake led the way.Soon, they were seated in the study.“Sit, please.”Blake had already

Old Mr. Cooper sincerely hoped the two of them could untie the knot and speak frankly. If, by some chance, they could find their way back to each other, that would be best of all. But he knew it was only his private wish. Two people already divorced, whose feelings had never run deep in the first place—could they really come together again? Old Mr. Cooper quietly asked himself.After lunch, Joseph headed back to campus for his afternoon classes. Matters at the hospital were largely handled by Mason Alvarez and the other vice deans—especially Mason, who had shouldered a great deal to ease Joseph’s burdens. Partly it was her duty; more than that, it grew from the special bond between them, which made her willing to carry more on his behalf. Joseph saw what Mason did for him; his gratitude and quiet astonishment needed no words.At times, he felt like the luckiest man alive. The women close to him had become an unfailing strength—at home, at work, in all things. May this life be one of n

After so much effort and careful groundwork, they had finally arrived at the landscape he’d envisioned—no small feat. Joseph drove on, mulling it over. Staring into the long sweep of night, he pressed the accelerator and picked up speed. In moments, his car slipped into the dark and was gone.Metropolis City, Central Council.It was already ten at night. Vincent Murphy, Benson Cooper, and Preston Gutierrez were still in a small conference room. Stacks of files lay across the table. The three men studied the pages, their expressions odd.“Twenty-one of the twenty-seven southern provinces are demanding the cause of Eugene Wilson’s death. How ironic,” Vincent sneered. “What did that man feed them to make them race about on his behalf—even in death?”“I’ve said it all along,” Benson chimed in. “Eugene Wilson had his hand over the sun. He had to go.”Off to the side, Preston flicked a look of disdain so subtle it almost went unnoticed. And you’ve got your hand over the sun now; should some