That I wasn't becoming the very thing I hated? That I wasn't turning around and ruining someone's life the way they'd ruined mine? Was this really the right thing to do?
"I don't know," I muttered, unable to fully express myself, the emotions too raw and tangled.
Aria nudged me with her knee. "We're not even doing anything directly to him. We're just... creating obstacles."
"Exactly," Annalise agreed. "Strategic resistance. Also known as making rich men cry."
Max made a noise, and I wondered if he'd have anything to say to that, although thanks to my sister, he wasn't nearly as rich as he'd once been. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheelfor a moment before talking. "Hey, speaking of making rich men cry, I've actually met Charles Hawthorne."
Annalise's head snapped toward him. "Tristan's dad?"
"Yep. That's the one. Arrogant, cutthroat, the kind of guy who doesn't just step on people, he grinds them into the pavement just for fun. My company's dealt with him before, and he plays dirty."
My stomach twisted.
"Well then, that means we can play dirty too," Annalise said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Max let out a noise that was half-sigh, half-chuckle. "You're terrifying."
"Thank you, babe."
The city gave way to grayer streets and more rundown buildings as we drove closer and closer to Southside Flats.The neighborhood had an old-school charm, the kind of place where generations had built their lives, an area that felt lived in, loved. People had history here.
I could see why Tristan and his dad wanted it, why people like them always wanted places like this. But I could also see why it needed to be protected.
We passed brownstones, corner delis, and pedestrians everywhere bundled up in their puffy coats. And then finally, Max pulled into a small lot next to a little coffee shop, miraculously finding a spot to park in.
Once we got out, I tugged my coat tighter, my boots crunching on the salted pavement as we walked closer to the coffee shop, Max holding the door open for all of us. Once inside, the warmth and scent of espresso washed over us.
We stood just inside the door looking around for an awkward moment until Annalise spotted a woman at a corner table, a laptop in front of her, along with an older man wearing a worn leather jacket.
"I think that's them."
The man stood as we approached them. "Annalise?" he asked.
Beaming, my sister extended a hand. "That's me. Great to meet you."
Introductions were made, drinks were ordered, and we settled into the meeting, well, everyone except Max who, being Max, got up to get himself a pastry the size of his face.
"All right, let's talk about what's happening," Natalie the lawyer said, cutting right to the chase. "Hawthorne Properties is pushing forward fast, and if we don't act quickly, this project is going to get rubber-stamped before anyone can fight back."
"So how do we stop it?" Annalise asked. "What can we do?"
Wrapping my hands around my drink, I leaned in, listening intently as Natalie launched into an explanation, talking about zoning laws, the possibility of getting certain buildings declared as historical landmarks, a very slow process, and other ways to delay the project that would hopefully make investors wary. If we slowed them down enough, the money might just dry up.
Annalise was practically vibrating with excitement. "So how else can we put the brakes on this?"
The community leader, Eddie, chimed in. "We need public pressure. They still need city approval, so council members need to feel like this is a bad political move."
I took a slow breath. "And how can we help?"
Natalie turned her laptop our way to show us a spreadsheet. "First off, with your financial backing—anonymous, of course, like we discussed—we can challenge these evictions in court."
"And," Eddie said, "if we can get the right media coverage, we can spread the word, make it personal. I mean, we've got elderly people, sick people, a woman with cancer, single moms and dads, little kids. No one wants their name attached to a story about evicting these people."
Max, who had already finished half his pastry, suddenly said, "I can make a few calls to some of the investment firms I know that are backing this. Maybe talk about how high risk it is, and they might start to pull out."
Eddie looked impressed. "That could change the game. Developers rely on momentum. If one investor gets cold feet, it could start a chain reaction."
