THE MAN WHO BOUGHT MY ASHES

Victor sat behind his massive mahogany desk, turning the brass key under the cold LED lights. It belonged to a safety deposit locker at the Old Harbor Bank—a relic institution slated for demolition under Victor’s new urban renewal project.

Beatrice entered the office without knocking, her composure barely recovered. She locked the door behind her and glared at the children.

"Have you lost your mind, Victor?" she hissed, dropping an encrypted tablet onto the desk. "The stock is plummeting. The board is already calling for a vote of no confidence. You can't let two stray orphans derail a forty-billion-dollar acquisition."

"Michael Hayes didn't die by accident, Beatrice," Victor said quietly, without looking up.

Beatrice stiffened. A flicker of panic flashed across her eyes before vanishing beneath her polished mask. "Michael Hayes was an engineer who didn't follow evacuation protocols. We settled with his widow years ago."

"We sealed the sublevels," Victor countered, his voice dropping into dangerous territory. "The automated protocol didn't engage on its own. Someone triggered the quarantine from the primary server room."

"That was twelve years ago!" Beatrice snapped, leaning over the desk. "Look at what we built from the ashes of that disaster. If you dig up that grave, Vance Global dies with it. Everything you sacrificed—your marriage, your health, your soul—will mean nothing."

Toby shrank back into the sofa, clutching his broken arm. Leo stepped between Beatrice and his brother, his jaw set.

"Get them out of this building," Beatrice demanded, glaring at Leo. "Or I'll have Child Protective Services take them to a state facility by tonight."

"Touch them," Victor said, standing up to his full height, his eyes dark and menacing, "and you will leave this company in handcuffs. Get out."