The morning light broke through the clouds like forgiveness that refused to land. Brandon balanced on the slanted roof, hammer in hand, the metallic clang echoing through the sleepy street. Sweat streaked down his temple, catching flecks of dust that shimmered in the sun. Each swing of the hammer was deliberate—measured, rhythmic, as if he could pound out every regret buried in his chest.
He paused only when his breath grew ragged, the ache in his shoulder a dull reminder of the man he used to be—someone who signed checks, not built shelter. He stared at the skyline, where glass towers pierced the horizon, distant and cold. His father’s towers.
Across town, in one of those towers’ shadows, Mr. Hughes sat alone at a long mahogany table, the kind meant for grand dinners and power deals. Th
