The Greyhound station didn’t smell like escape, it smelled like oil, cheap coffee, and rain-soaked coats. Malik sat near the window with nothing but a duffel bag and a folded letter in his pocket.The bus hissed as it pulled in, brakes sighing like the city itself was relieved to see him go. The driver called for boarding. Malik didn’t move right away.“Sir,” the attendant said gently. “You riding or thinking?”“Bit of both,” Malik answered. His voice was quiet, even. “Just making sure I’m done looking back.”He stepped onto the bus. Through the window, Atlanta blurred, wet streets, neon glows, the skyline that had once felt like a promise. Now it was a rear-view ghost.The city faded, and for the first time in months, Malik let silence fill the space where anger had been living. Hours passed. The bus rattled south through small towns and gas stations.A man two rows up tried to start a conversation. Malik nodded, offered half-smiles, but his thoughts kept circling back to the shop, t

The suite was dim when Malik returned. Atlanta’s skyline poured through the window, all glass and temptation.Elena sat on the sofa, tablet open, numbers glowing across the screen. “They’ll call by morning,” she said without looking up. “They want the deal badly.”Malik loosened his tie. “Good. The more desperate they are, the clearer their tells.”“You think she suspects?”“She felt something.” He poured a glass of water, watching the ripples tremble. “Recognition isn’t proof. Not yet.”Elena closed the tablet. “And when it becomes proof?”He took a slow drink. “Then the game changes.”She leaned back, studying him. “You’ve built a whole empire just to walk into that room. Don’t let it own you.”“It won’t.” He set down the glass. “I already lost everything once. That’s how I learned what not to worship.”Across town, Tasha Moore sat in her office long after everyone else had gone home. The building was quiet, humming faintly with the sound of air vents and regret.She stared at the r

The morning came sharp and colourless. Atlanta’s heat hadn’t settled in yet, but the air already felt heavy, like something waiting to break.Malik stood by the window of his office, phone in hand, watching clouds roll in over the skyline. Elena entered without knocking. Her face told him everything. “Something’s wrong,” she said.“How bad?”“Bad enough that the finance department called twice before eight. Two of our biggest contracts, WestRail and MidSouth Freight, pulled out overnight.Their lawyers say the funding came from fraudulent accounts.” Malik turned slowly. “That’s impossible. We vetted every line.”“Not according to them,” she said, laying a tablet on the desk. “Look. The deposits are gone, every cent rerouted through a Cayman subsidiary before dawn.”He scanned the screen. The code names were familiar, too familiar: Wilcrest, Savoy, and a new one, Kestrel Limited. A cold clarity settled over him. “Kent,” he said.Elena frowned. “He’s already hitting back?”“He warned me

The rain had stopped, but the city hadn’t quieted. Atlanta shimmered under a dull sky, streets still slick, traffic pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the towers.Malik stood by the window of his office, jacket slung over the back of a chair, sleeves rolled. The meeting with the board loomed in less than an hour, yet he couldn’t focus on financial reports.His mind kept returning to one name, Kent, and to the feeling that every step forward was already being watched. A soft knock broke through his thoughts. “Come in,” he said.The door opened halfway. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt. “Tasha.”She stepped inside, hesitating in the threshold like she wasn’t sure if she belonged. A long coat clung to her shoulders; her hair, shorter now, framed a face that carried more weariness than he remembered.“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she began. “But I had to see you.”Malik said nothing. He motioned toward the chair opposite his desk. She didn’t sit.“I found something,” she said. “Abo