The Gilded Spoon occupied the ground floor of an old financial-district hotel.

Its private booths were separated by heavy velvet curtains, and its lighting was designed to flatter expensive faces while concealing discreet conversations.

At exactly three o’cl

Richard turned forty-five on Thursday.

No balloons decorated the kitchen.

No reservation waited at an exclusive restaurant.

No expensive watch sat inside a velvet box.

The house was cold because Richard had reduced the heating to avoid another utility shutoff notice. S

Vanguard Designs did not collapse with an explosion.

It disappeared through signatures, notices, and locked accounts.

By Friday afternoon, Richard sat alone in his glass-walled office.

The desks outside had been cleared.

Sarah, Liam, and Julian had a