The thirty-day window lasts eleven days before it collapses.
I don't see it coming, which is exactly how Talia warned me these things tend to arrive. Not loud. Not obvious. Just an ordinary Tuesday that turns into something else entirely somewhere around lunch.
I'm finishing paperwork on a client renewal, nothing connected to Voss, nothing that should draw any attention at all, when two floor security officers stop at my desk. Not collectors. Different uniforms, Exchange-issued, the kind that handle internal disputes instead of external debt.
"Sevric Arden," one of them says. Not a question.
"That's me."
"You need to come with us. Compliance review, effective immediately."
"Review of what?"
"The Whitmore contract. Filed under your broker ID three days ago."
My stomach drops before
