The Glass-Walled Exclusion

The boardroom of The Sterling Group was a cathedral of glass, suspended fifty stories above the salt-sprayed chaos of the coastal redevelopment site. Inside, the air was chilled to a precise, sterile temperature, scrubbed clean of the city’s grit. Arthur Vance stood at the periphery, his presence as inconsequential to the board members as the furniture.

Marcus Sterling stood at the head of the mahogany table, his silhouette framed by the panoramic view of the cranes below. He didn’t look at Arthur. He didn’t need to.

“The tender submission for the North Pier is non-negotiable,” Marcus declared, his voice a rhythmic pulse of authority. “We are not her

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