The Wellington Family Office sat unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. The lobby lights glowed with a muted amber tone, and the marble floors carried only the light echo of my heels as I walked across them. The building was usually a hive of executives, analysts, and interns moving quickly in carefully choreographed patterns. Today, it felt abandoned. Deserted. As if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Matthew insisted on having the briefing at the Family Office rather than at ...