Page 135 of Under Construction

Dennis starts throwing files into boxes. His hands shake too violently to call an Uber.

Ryan's working nearby, supervising the terrazzo grinding. His tall frame bent over the machinery, blonde hair catching the sun.

"Ryan!" Dennis’s voice cracks. "Need a ride."

The drive home is silent. Ryan keeps glancing at him with those striking blue eyes, lips pressed into a severe line that transforms his usually bright face, but says nothing.

"Thanks for this."

"Anytime, boss."

"Tell everyone to work fast. We need progress before another permit delay. And if anyone comes looking around—anyone—call me first. No one enters without me there."

"Got it. Just... need you to unblock me first."

"What?"

"You know, from when Chris—"

"Right." Dennis thrusts his phone at Ryan. "Find your number."

"Ah, that’s the one. The one on top of the message, 'Hey, sweet cheeks, can I have a taste of your—”

Dennis's glare could burn holes in concrete.

Ryan swallows the rest, unblocks himself with record speed, and retreats to his truck.

In his home office, Dennis spreads everything out. Dates. Descriptions. Permits. Rejections. Blueprints. He marks inconsistencies in violent yellow—misspelled words, altered drawings, subtle changes that shouldn't exist.

Then he finds it.

A blueprint only accessible through his private server. The one in his apartment. The one only Chris knew about.

His development blueprint—the one with all his proprietary calculations, the one showing exactly how his innovative ventilation system works. These details never left his private server. The city hall submissions contained only the basic specs, stripped of anything that could reveal his breakthrough designs.

But the rejected permits cite problems that could only be created by someone who'd seen these exact calculations. Tiny changes in the submitted designs, precise enough to trigger automatic rejections while looking like honest mistakes. Changes only possible if you knew where to hit.

His stomach turns as connections form. The late nights. The mysterious calls. The perfectly timed permit rejections. The woman with the envelope.

A structural engineer masquerading as a site manager.

Chris's touches. Chris's lies. Chris's secrets. Chris's deception.

Everything—every single thread—leads back to Chris.

Dennis stares at his evidence, chest cracking open as betrayal rewrites every memory.

40The Walls We Built

Dennis's phone buzzes with the entry notification. Chris's face appears on the screen.

"What do you want?"

"Just to talk."

"I've asked you to talk until I'm hoarse."

"Please, Dennis. I need to see you."

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