A month after the gala, Wolfe Tower was no longer a monument—it was a sealed crime scene.
Plastic drapes fluttered across cracked glass. Government seals covered the elevators. Most had walked away.
Kaylee walked in.
---
Jordan Mara waited by the side service door, fidgeting with an access card.
“You sure about this?" he asked. “Agents sweep this place in five hours."
“I only need two," Kaylee replied.
Behind her stood a young woman with thick glasses and a worn laptop bag.
“This is Elena," Mara said. “Ex-Wolfe IT. Brilliant, paranoid, and very underpaid."
“I prefer the term 'digital vigilante,'" Elena muttered. “Now let's find your ghosts."
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Inside the server room, the machines still hummed—a low chorus of secrets not yet buried.
Elena tapped in Ophelia's old passcodes. The
