They knocked the house down on a Tuesday in April. I stood across the street with Estelle and a paper cup of coffee that went cold in my hand. The brick came down slower than I expected. Teardowns always do, Cole Brennan had said. Don't take it personally.
I didn't. I took the wire. Nine point six million, minus Estelle, minus taxes Priya had already sketched on a napkin, minus Ruiz's relocation, minus a donation to the harbor clinic Grandmother used to bully into making house calls.
What was left was still a number from another planet. I put it in an account with my name on it. Tessa Brennan. No LLC. No partner. No memo.
I bought a small place up the coast, not a teardown, not a view of cranes. A porch. A table for one that I could set for two if I ever wanted to. I went back to work.
