Chapter 24: What He Can’t Control
Anton Pov Distance, it turned out, was not a clean thing. People spoke about it as if it created order. As if space itself solved whatever it was meant to solve. As if putting floor between two people could somehow silence memory, appetite, or the very specific kind of violence a body committed against its own discipline when it had already learned exactly what it wanted. That had not been my experience. By nine the next morning, I had signed three documents, ended one call early because a man from Frankfurt mistook repetition for leverage, and reread the same line in a market brief four times without retaining a word of it. None of that irritated me as much as the reason. Melody. Not the abstract version. Not the founder. Not the woman in boardrooms with sharp eyes and a sharper mo
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