Mercer didn't tell anyone about the final name on the Ledger. He carried it quietly through the following weeks, watching his own choices more carefully than he ever had before, searching every interaction for some hint of the shape his future mistake might take.
Life, stubbornly, kept moving forward regardless.
His warehouses had grown enough by midsummer that he needed proper staff beyond Tamsin's small network, clerks and overseers who understood numbers and contracts rather than alleyways and rooftops. Isla had suggested he post the positions openly rather than relying solely on favors and old connections, arguing that legitimate growth required legitimate hiring.
The applicants came in a steady stream over two weeks, most of them forgettable, a few promising enough to shortlist. Me
