The markets opened at nine thirty.
At nine twenty-eight Aria sat in the archive room with three browser tabs open — the Attorney General's online submission portal, the SEC whistleblower filing system, and her email, drafted and ready, addressed to three journalists whose bylines she had been reading for two years. People who wrote carefully and sourced everything and didn't flinch.
Ethan stood in the doorway.
Neither of them had slept.
He'd changed his shirt at some point — she didn't know when, didn't know if he kept a spare in his office or had gone home briefly in the early hours and returned. He looked the way people looked after a night of significant decisions — not tired exactly, more like distilled. Stripped down to something essential.
"Ready?" he said.
Aria looked at the s
