Odette drove the rest of the way in silence, and Julian let her. The city thinned out past downtown, the glass towers giving way to older brick and then to the wide private drive that led up to the Meridian.Even at night, even half wrapped in scaffolding, the building looked exactly like what it was supposed to be. A monument. From the outside it still had the same clean lines Julian remembered drafting, the same proportions he had argued for against three different budget committees. It was only when the car came around the front that he saw the truth of it.The atrium had no ceiling. Six years later, the steel ribs that had once held up a curved glass roof were still open to the sky, rust creeping along joints that should have been replaced years ago. Work lights on tall stands threw long shadows across a floor that had been patched but never finished, like the building itself was still waiting for someone to decide what it was allowed to become.Augustus Drayton was standing under

The morning after the preview dinner, Julian was pulled off the general labor crew and reassigned to a warehouse two lots over from the main site. Someone had decided that a convicted architect was better used cataloguing furniture than lifting scaffolding poles in front of donors, and Julian didn't ask who.The warehouse was long and cold, lit by a row of caged bulbs that buzzed faintly overhead. Rows of salvaged items sat under plastic sheeting, waiting to be sorted before they went to auction or storage or simply disappeared, whichever the foundation decided was cheapest. Most of it had come from the old executive offices, pulled out in the weeks after the collapse before the insurance adjusters finished their work. Water damage had swollen half the wood beyond recognition. Other pieces still carried faint scorch marks along one edge, a reminder of the sprinklers that had fired uselessly after the floor was already gone.Julian worked through it piece by piece, checking tags agains

The lawyers came before anyone else did.Julian remembered that part clearly, even though most of those weeks had blurred together under the sedatives. He was still in the hospital bed, ribs taped, an IV line taped to the back of his hand, when two men in dark suits walked into the room and closed the door behind them. They were the family's lawyers. He had known one of them since he was a teenager.His own attorney wouldn't arrive until the next day."We're sorry for your loss," the older one began, setting his briefcase on the chair beside the bed. "Vivian was extraordinary. Everyone at the firm feels it."Julian tried to sit up and couldn't. "Where is my father?""Handling arrangements. He asked us to speak with you first."They didn't rush. That was what Julian noticed most, even through the fog. They spoke with the practiced calm of men who had walked into rooms like this before, men who knew exactly how long to pause and when to lower their voices. They laid out the situation as

With six days left before the gala, the site ran short of cable and conduit fittings, and someone had to go across town to collect the order.Nobody wanted the job. It meant an hour in a truck, a signature on a delivery slip, and a long drive back through traffic. One of the foremen looked around the group, found Julian standing at the edge of it, and tossed him the keys."Supplier's on the east side," the foreman said. "Don't stop for lunch."Julian caught the keys and nodded. He kept his face neutral until he was past the gate.It was the first time since his release that he had been anywhere without a Drayton watching him. No Weston at his shoulder. No Odette at the wheel. Just an old work truck, a stretch of open road, and an hour nobody had asked him to account for.He drove to the supplier first and loaded the order. Then he pulled Priya's card from his pocket.The firm name was still crossed out in faded ink. Under it, in small print, was the address of the old office. Julian t

Two days before the gala, Weston stopped pretending.Julian was alone in the trailer, sitting on the edge of the cot with a mug of cold coffee, when the door swung open without a knock. Weston stepped inside and closed it behind him. He didn't wear his usual smile. He didn't wear the tailored coat either, only a plain jacket with dust on the sleeves, as if he had come straight from the atrium.For the first time since Julian's release, the golden heir was gone."You've been busy," Weston said."I've been working. Like you asked.""Don't." Weston's voice was low and flat. "I know the board member's been asking questions. I know someone's been in the old files. I don't know exactly what you think you have, Julian, and I don't need to."He crossed the small room in two steps and stood over the cot. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't confess to anything, and he didn't need to. Everything he said carried the weight of a man who was not afraid."Whatever ledger you've found, whatever page