Mag-log inThe auctioneer's cadence moved through the wall. I had built something without him. That was still true. It would stay true. Whatever I said next didn't touch it. "I don't know," I said. "That's the honest answer. Not the managed version." I met his gaze. "I don't know if what's left is enough to
Alicia's POV The older man was still talking. "Seven years," he said. "Four jurisdictions. We moved water infrastructure across borders that hadn't spoken to each other in a generation." His hands traced corridors in the air between us. "The archive is the proof it happened. That it worked." He tu
“You entered without cause,” I said. “You stayed without one.” “I don’t know what this is between you two but—” “My wife.” No variation in tone. No additional weight needed. Alicia’s hand lifted a little, then halted mid-motion and settled again without completing the gesture. The woman exhaled
Edward’s POV “Forty thousand. Do I have forty-five?” The paddle was already raised. Alicia’s hand remained under mine, unchanged in position, as though neither of us had adjusted to its presence since it settled there. “Forty-five.” I raised. “Fifty. Fifty-five.” On the left, a man leaned forw
The fifth lot began. Edward moved to speak to someone at the side of the room. I watched the auctioneer. She crossed the room toward him. He turned when she spoke. She laughed. It had worked before, that laugh. I scanned the sixth lot. Mixed media, authenticated 2019, provenance verified. Her h
Alicia's POV Volkov was already at the door when we came in. His eyes went to my dress and came back up. Lazily. He turned to Edward, and they shook hands. It ran a half-second longer than it needed. "You both came," he said. "You invited us," Edward said. "I invite many people. They don't alwa
Alicia's POV I was late. Twelve minutes, according to my watch when I stepped off the elevator on sixty-four. The quarterly review had started at noon. It was twelve-twelve. I walked quickly, heels striking tile in a rhythm that felt too loud for the hush of the hallway, the kind that means ever
"Marketing's request is inflated," he said. "The ROI projections rely on best-case assumptions that won't hold this quarter. The operations upgrades are necessary, but the proposed timeline is unrealistic." His voice was controlled. Impeccably controlled. The kind of control that is a performance i
I looked at her. She looked at me. "Because it was," I said. She held my gaze. "You don't know that." "Yes I do," I said. "And so do you." She looked away. Her thumb brushing my ribs. Once. The small, unconscious motion she had kept doing, and I had noticed every single time. "Not ready," she
Her hands. Both of them. One at my arm, one flat against my chest. "I have you." The voice from the road. Low. Certain. "Stay still." "I'm not—" "Couch." She moved me the way she'd moved me in that hospital room. Knowing where the sling was. Knowing the ribs. Not being told once. And I let her,







