Anna’s eyes flick from the document to me, calculation flickering in their depths.
Malkor stares, disbelief warping his smug veneer.
“You cannot do this,” he says at last, voice low and hard.
I rise slowly, letting the deliberate movement settle over them like a shadow.
“I can,” I say. “And I will.”
Anna’s jaw tightens. “This is reckless.”
“No,” I say, voice cutting through the tension like tempered steel. “This is right.”
I pick up the compass, weighing its familiar heft in my palm.
“Full demolition is vetoed—effective immediately,” I state, gaze sweeping the room. “The revised preservation-forward plan stands.”
A sharp exhale from Anna. “You’ll cost us millions.”
“We will make more—by building trust, not by tearing it apart.”
Malkor slams a palm to the table. “You are gambling the future of this firm on sentiment!”
I meet his fury with calm clarity.
“We don’t raze what raised us,” I say quietly.
The words land deeper than any argument.
Because beneath the cold calculus of this room, they all know the truth of it. There are things worth more than profit. Roots that anchor more than balance sheets.
I tuck the compass into my pocket, gather the portfolio beneath one arm.
And with my head high, I walk to the door.
“I will send updated execution orders within the hour,” I say.
The room remains frozen in my wake.
As I step into the corridor, the city hums beyond the glass—storm-swept, fierce, alive.
And so am I.
CHAPTER 25
ROWAN
The news hits faster than I can breathe.
One minute, I’m stocking a new shipment of battered hardcovers in the front window. The next, my phone buzzes with a dozen messages stacked on top of each other, a wildfire of texts, posts, and photos lighting up every feed in town.
Boardwalk saved.
Full demolition vetoed.
Preservation plan approved.
At first, I don’t believe it. I read the words twice, three times, heart hammering in my throat.