Marcus’s POVThe private dining room on the thirty-second floor was exactly the kind of place mid-level executives liked to feel important. A view of the city that made people talk more than they should. I arrived five minutes early and took the seat facing the door. When Daniel Crowe walked in, I stood, smiled, and shook his hand with the right amount of warmth.“Daniel. Appreciate you making the time.”“Mr. Hale,” he said, a little formal. “Or—Marcus, if that’s all right.”“Marcus is fine.” I gestured to the chair across from me. “I took the liberty of ordering coffee. Figured we could keep this simple.”He sat, adjusting his cuffs. Crowe was in his mid-forties, competent enough to have lasted under Clara’s father for years, but not senior enough to feel untouchable just the right amount of Perfect I needed.“I’ll be direct,” I said once the server left. “I’ve been spending more time with the family lately. Dinner the other night, a few conversations with my uncle. I’m concerned a

Ace’s POVThe conference room on Jonathan’s floor was all glass and quiet money. Neutral art on the walls. A long table polished to a mirror finish. I arrived two minutes early and took the seat across from the head of the table instead of waiting to be directed.Jonathan walked in with two of his people, dismissed them with a look, and closed the door himself.“Ace,” he said, offering a brief handshake. “Appreciate you coming across town.”“Seemed easier than trading another round of carefully worded emails and stock attacks doesn’t it?.”A faint, humorless curve touched Jonathan’s mouth as he sat.“Straight to it, then,” he said. “Those mid-tier logistics contracts that shifted last month, your company absorbed the hit cleaner than most would have.”“We’ve had practice.” My voice stayed flat. “Market pressure isn’t new. What is new though, is how precisely it landed. Two contracts in the same window. And both were sitting on routes that happen to run a little too close to interests

Tamara’s POVJohnson was already home when I walked in, which should have been a relief. Instead it put me on edge. He was sitting on the edge of the couch with his phone in his hand and that distant look he had been wearing more and more lately, almost like he was already halfway out the door even while his body stayed in the room.I dropped my bag on the chair and kicked off my shoes.“You’re quiet,” I said.He didn’t look up right away. “Long day.”“That’s been your answer for two weeks.”Now he did look at me. There was something tired in his face, something closed. “Maybe because it’s been true for two weeks.”I walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of water I didn’t want, and came back. The apartment felt smaller than usual, maybe I just felt more trapped inside it.“We need to talk about Clara,” I said.Johnson exhaled through his nose and set the phone down. “Of course we do.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“It means every conversation eventually lands on her. Her inherita

Jacobi’s POVThe diner sat off the interstate, the kind of place that still served coffee in thick white mugs and didn’t ask questions if you paid cash. I took the corner booth with my back to the wall and waited.Ellis arrived twelve minutes late, same as he always had. He was older now and he was heavier in the shoulders. He slid into the seat across from me and didn’t bother with a handshake.“You’re supposed to be a ghost,” he said.“So are you.”He snorted once and signaled the waitress for coffee. When she left, he leaned in. “You don’t call after years unless something’s gone terribly wrong.”“Two men jumped me in a parking garage,” I said. “They were Masked and very Coordinated, Better than most of the street muscles I’ve dealt with in the past but Not good enough to finish the job.”Ellis’s eyes narrowed. “You put them down?”“Yes.”“And you’re here because you don’t think it was random.”“I know it wasn’t.” I wrapped my hands around the mug when it arrived. The heat helped

Ace’s POVDr. Rahman’s message came through on the secure line just after nine.“Preliminary results are back. We should speak in person.”I heaved a sigh, for a split second I didn’t know if I wanted the pregnancy to be real or not. The message carried No details and from experience that alone told me it wasn’t clean.***Rahman was already in the consultation room with a single folder on the desk. He closed the door behind me and didn’t waste time.“Sit.”I sat.He opened the folder but didn’t turn it toward me immediately. “You got me a usable sample. Hair. Enough to run the hormone metabolite panel I mentioned. This is not a diagnostic pregnancy test, I want that clear before we go further.”“I understand Dr, what do we have?”“Good.” He slid a single page across the desk. “The markers we can detect at this stage are inconclusive. There are elevated readings in one pathway that could align with early pregnancy. There are also inconsistencies in the supporting metabolites that don