Brian’s POV
The renovation of the estate had been going smoothly. I’d walked the perimeter that morning, taking mental notes as I moved through the newly transformed houses.
The workers nodded at me respectfully, dust on their sleeves, paint-streaked overalls, the air buzzing with the constant hum of drills and hammers.
It was oddly satisfying watching something broken come back to life.
I’d spoken to the neighboring residents the day before, personally stopping by to apologize for the noise. Some offered strained smiles, others seemed surprised.
People liked feeling heard. That much I’d learned over the years. Giving them a heads-up before they could complain made them feel like they had power—even if they didn’t.
It cost me nothing to say, “Sorry for the inconvenience,” and in re
