The next morning arrived with a sharper edge in the air. Winter had begun to press into the city, and the sky outside my apartment carried a pale gray tone that suggested the day would be cold. The streets below were already alive with movement, but the energy felt slightly restrained, as if the city itself understood that something significant was unfolding in the financial world.
I left the apartment earlier than usual. The car ride through Manhattan was quiet except for the occasional sound of horns and distant sirens. My phone rested beside me, lighting up every few minutes with alerts from the markets and messages from different departments.
The story about Hawthorne Capital had grown overnight.
Financial news networks were now openly discussing the tension between the hedge fund a
