Six months later, my new office still smelled of fresh paint. Glass walls overlooked the morning traffic, and the last moving box sat open beside my desk.
I had brought nothing from the estate's dark oak office.
I had overseen the dissolution of the Vance empire myself. Its properties and hidden accounts were liquidated.
The proceeds established The Vance Legacy Fund for Survivors, a national foundation that helped families escape organized violence.
Its first case files already filled a corner of my desk. Each belonged to someone waiting for a safe way out.
News reports still appeared in airport lounges and cafes. One showed a gaunt Dante after a prison riot. Another reported Sienna's transfer to a psychiatric ward after a complete collapse.
I read each headline once and returned to
