It started on a Monday morning, the kind of grey sky morning that makes the world feel like it’s holding its breath. I had barely taken two sips of coffee when Claudia called me, her voice already clipped at the edges.

“There are people from the Internal Board at the Trieste store. Suits. Not buyers.”

I stood by the window, staring at the mist crawling over the rooftops like it knew what was coming. I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to.

“They’re calling it a ‘routine multi-site ...