The New York sun beat down mercilessly on the construction site, sending heat waves across the concrete slabs and steel girders. Scott Millhone wiped his brow, tugging at the collar of his crisp white shirt, already damp with sweat. The site buzzed with activity, machines roared, hammers pounded, and a chorus of voices shouted instructions back and forth. He moved with purpose, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the plans, double-checking every measurement and notation.
“Okay, listen up!” Scott’s voice cut through the noise, firm and controlled. The contractors paused, all eyes on him. “We’re not just building another restaurant here. This is the Casagrande project. If Dante sees even a single flaw this weekend, we’re done. Understand me? Precision, accuracy, no shortcuts. If you see an iss
