Morning in the city felt different after a night like that too bright, too honest. The rain-slick streets below Carson’s tower caught the sunlight in fractured mirrors, each reflection another version of the truth they had unearthed.

Inside the penthouse, the quiet hummed like a wound trying to heal. A fire burned low in the hearth; it wasn’t for warmth so much as memory. The smell of smoke no longer frightened Justina, but it still made her heart beat faster.

The ledger sat between them on ...