With my fingertips resting against the icy floor-to-ceiling glass of my sixty-fifth-floor penthouse office, I watched violet twilight engulf the streets below. The Opeline rose beneath my handcrafted Italian loafers, its dark tower descending toward the harbor waters. The immense black tower was an architectural landmark. Every inch of its imported limestone exterior, every hand-cut crystal suspended in the atrium, and every thread of eight-hundred-count Egyptian cotton in its four hundred luxury suites was indisputably mine. StudyChemistry Yet a sleek smartphone vibrated on the broad surface of my black marble desk. The glowing message reminded me that, to my own relatives, I remained the unwanted stray they had thrown into the winter cold ten years earlier.

the private elevator corridor. “Blair, we need to speak privately! There has been a dreadful misunderstanding! Harper was only joking, she didn’t know—we didn’t know who you were!”

I gave no reply. I entered the executive elevator, its heavy brass and polished mahogany doors sliding shut behind me, sealing out the lobby.

As the lift climbed quietly, toward floor sixty, the digital smart-screen on the elevator wall chimed softly. An encrypted video feed appeared, showing the archives on floor fifty-nine.

Onscreen, Preston Weller hurriedly stuffed corporate charter folders, gold-embossed notary

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