Chapter 6

The fluorescent lights of the community center office hummed with a dying, yellow buzz, casting long, sickly shadows over the stacks of property deeds. Mei’s fingers were cramped, stained with the ink of a dozen different signatures. Outside, the pre-dawn silence of the block was thin, brittle—the kind of quiet that precedes a structural collapse. She shoved the final signed proxy into the heavy oak desk drawer, her heart hammering against her ribs. Every paper in this room was a grenade. She hadn't just transferred ownership; she had dismantled the silent partners' collateral, piece by paper piece.

Then, the front glass shattered. It wasn't a riotous crash, but a precise, disciplined strike. Heavy boots crunched over the debris of the entryway. Mei didn’t look up. She knew the cadence of that walk. Hanh didn't move like a thug; he moved like a man who owned the air he breathed.

"The ink is still wet, Mei," Hanh said, his voice cutting through the hum of the lights. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking out the dim streetlamp glow. He wasn't alone; two men in charcoal coats flanked him, their eyes scanning the room with the clinical detachment of auditors.

Mei slammed the ledger shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "The titles are filed, Hanh. The residents are the legal owners now. You’re too late."

"Filed?" Hanh stepped forward, the floorboards groaning. "You’re playing with digital ghosts. The registry was locked down an hour ago. You’re holding paper, Mei, but you’re in a digital world."

Before Mei could respond, the inner door creaked open. Auntie Li stood there, her face a mask of fraying composure. She clutched a silk shawl to her chest, her eyes darting between Mei’s defiant stance and Hanh’s

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