Damian Voss did not remember most of his life before he was twenty- nine, and he had built an entire personality around not thinking about that fact. It helped that he was extremely good at his job, and his job left very little room for reflection. Voss Capital had grown from a modest infrastructure fund into a firm that moved billions through real estate, energy, and municipal contracts across four continents, and all of that growth had happened in under two years, a pace that made competitors nervous and journalists suspicious and Damian himself, if he was honest in the rare moments he allowed himself honesty, a little dizzy. Tonight he stood in the mirror of his penthouse dressing room adjusting a tie that his chief of staff had already told him twice was crooked, and he studied his own reflection with the mild detachment of a man looking at a photograph of someone he’d once met. “You’re doing the thing again,” said Simone Achebe from the doorway, arms crossed, dressed for the gala i

Getting the meeting turned out to be easier than Elena expected, which should have worried her more than it did. She sent a brief, professional email to the general contact address listed on the Voss Capital website, referencing the pediatric wing bid, requesting fifteen minutes to discuss potential future collaboration on the firm’s other restoration projects. She expected a form response from an assistant, if anything at all. Instead, less than six hours later, she received a reply from Simone Achebe herself, offering a slot the following Tuesday at ten in the morning, thirty minutes, at the Voss Capital offices downtown. “That’s fast,” Nadia said, reading the email over Elena’s shoulder. “Suspiciously fast, for a guy who’s supposedly running a multi billion dollar fund.” “Maybe he’s just efficient.” “Maybe. Or maybe someone told him a woman matching your description was staring at him at the gala, and he wants to know why.” The thought had occurred to Elena too, somewhere in the sl