Chapter 6

The iron security gate of the Lane tailor shop slammed into its floor track with a final, metallic shriek. Leo didn't wait for the dust to settle. He threw the deadbolt and shoved the heavy cutting table against the door, the wood groaning under the sudden, violent weight. Outside, the muffled roar of the street had curdled into the sharp, rhythmic cadence of a forced eviction.

"Open up, Leo! The audit doesn't stop because you’re playing martyr!" Chen’s voice was amplified, distorted by the megaphone he’d brought to ensure the entire block heard the betrayal. Leo ignored him, his hands trembling as he spread the final, fragile ledger pages across the workbench. The fluorescent bulb overhead flickered, casting long, jagged shadows over the rows of handwritten debt-bonds. He hadn't come here to hide; he had come here because this was the only place where the math made sense. He grabbed a jeweler’s loupe, squinting at the faint, indented handwriting on the last page—the one his father had tried to shred before the end.

"We have a court order for the property!" Chen shouted, his boots thudding against the reinforced glass. "The police are already processing the fraud charges against your father’s estate. You’re holding stolen records, Leo. Hand them over and maybe you walk away with a clean record."

Before Leo could respond, a shadow detached itself from the back-room storage rack. Aunt Mei stepped over a pile of discarded silk bolts, her face a mask of grim resolve. She didn't wait for an invitation, dropping a navy-blue folder onto the table.

"You're looking for an exit strategy," she said, her voice cutting through the cacophony of the demolition crew’s sledgehammers striking the alley wall. "Your father never looked for exits. He looked for triggers."

Leo pushed the ledger aside, his hand hovering over the folder. "He left me a mess, Mei. They’re calling me the architect of the fraud. Chen has the press outside, a

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