His name was Marcus Webb and he had been running the second largest logistics company in Detroit for twenty-two years.
He had built it from a single warehouse and three trucks with the specific stubborn patience of a man who understood that scale was a product of consistency rather than acceleration, and he had arrived at a company that employed four hundred people and operated across six states with the specific quiet pride of someone who had never needed to be loud about what he had built because the building spoke for itself.
He was sixty-four years old and he was in trouble.
Not the dramatic kind — not fraud or scandal or the specific disasters that produced headlines. The quiet kind. The kind that accumulated when a company grew faster than its financial infrastructure and the syst
