Sebastian spent the next two days doing something he had avoided for months. He stopped looking for another clue. Instead, he put every piece of evidence about David Kane on one table.The financial review sat in the center.Around it were the original valuation reports Thomas Reed had preserved, Edward's statement, the Northbridge ownership records, the Harbor District receipt, and David's handwritten notes.Evelyn sat beside him with a legal pad. They had already checked every date twice. There was no missing document that could magically solve the case.There was no witness who had seen David's death. There was no confession. There was, however, a pattern.Sebastian drew a line beneath the dates. “My father discovered the manipulated valuations.”Evelyn nodded. “He documented the transactions.”“Then he met Thomas.”“Yes.”“Then Edward.”“Yes.”“Two days later, he died.”Evelyn looked at the timeline. “And Lang and Mercer continued benefiting from the same asset network afterward.”

Three days after buying the portfolio, Sebastian had collected exactly zero dollars.He stared at the spreadsheet on his laptop and rubbed his forehead.“Excellent start,” Cole said from the other desk.Sebastian looked over. “You are enjoying this too much.”“I am enjoying watching the great Sebastian Kane discover that a forty-two-thousand-dollar recovery estimate does not mean forty-two thousand dollars appears in your bank account.”“It never did.”“You have been staring at that spreadsheet for twenty minutes.”“Because the numbers are wrong.”Cole leaned forward. “Which ones?”Sebastian pointed at the recovery column.“The estimated value assumes six accounts are collectible. I don't think they are.”Cole's smile disappeared. “Then why did we buy it?”“Because I think three are collectible.”“Three?”“Maybe four.”Cole sat back. “That does not sound better.”“It is if we paid the right price.”Sebastian opened the original account files.The portfolio had looked attractive becaus

Sebastian was halfway through reviewing the warehouse equipment portfolio when Robert Hayes called. He almost let it go to voicemail.The company had been busy since morning. Two clients wanted recovery proposals, a supplier had delayed a shipment, and the bank had sent the credit-facility documents Arthur had promised.Then Sebastian saw the caller's name. Robert Hayes.He answered. “Robert?”“I have an update for you.”Sebastian put down his pen. “About my father?”“Yes.”He leaned back in his chair. “What happened?”“The authorities finished their initial review of the financial evidence you submitted.”Sebastian waited.“They confirmed that the valuation records Thomas Reed preserved are authentic. They also confirmed the ownership and transfer records connected to the transactions David was investigating.”Sebastian said nothing.Robert continued. “They found a consistent pattern of distressed assets being acquired at unusually low valuations and later transferred or recovered at

The rain had stopped just before dawn, leaving the streets six floors down dark and slick. They mirrored the amber glow of the traffic lights as the morning shift began.Sebastian stood by the glass window of his office, a heavy ceramic mug warming his palms. He watched a delivery truck fight its way into a narrow alley behind a dry cleaner. A few cyclists darted between idling cars. The noise of the city didn't make it through the double-paned glass—just a low, steady murmur, like the distant sound of the ocean.It was quiet. It was routine. It was ordinary. Sebastian loved ordinary mornings.When you spend years living in a storm where every phone call brings bad news, every letter is a threat, and every morning feels like a battle you’re already losing, ordinary feels like a miracle.He turned away from the window and looked at the heavy manila folder resting dead-center on his dark wood desk.Printed across the top in crisp, black lettering were the words: Kane Asset Recovery & I