Jobs.
Modernization.
Audrey turned away.
Oliver saw.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“The man you left?”
“Yes.”
Oliver stopped wiping the counter.
For the first time, Preston’s face became personal.
The report continued.
Cedar Bridge Development Group valued in recent private transactions above four billion dollars.
Oliver whistled softly.
“Not a small company.”
“No.”
“What does he do?”
“Runs most day-to-day operations.”
“You said you're examining them.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Audrey picked up a Cedar Bridge notice beside the register.
Tenant Review Pending.
Relocation Discussion Requested.
She read it.
“The tenant review isn't complete.”
Oliver looked over.
“You can tell that from one notice?”
“From the language.”
“And the hearing schedule.”
“You know their process.”
“I told you.”
“I’m helping examine it.”
Before Oliver could ask the next question, the front door opened.
Cole Barrett entered.
Forty-one.
Cedar Bridge regional redevelopment manager.
Dark overcoat.
Leather portfolio.
Perfectly dry shoes despite the slush outside, which meant a car had delivered him directly to the curb.
“Mr. Grant.”
Oliver’s posture changed.
“Cole.”
Cole placed three folders on the counter.
“Revised lease-buyout proposal.”
“Notice of landlord inspection.”
“Maintenance concerns submitted to the city.”
Oliver opened the second folder.
“Boiler ventilation.”
“Plumbing.”
“Electrical load.”
“Yes.”
“My kitchen passed inspection six months ago.”
“Cedar Bridge owns an old building.”
“We have responsibilities.”
“Then schedule them.”
“Everything in writing.”
Cole looked toward Audrey.
“You're hiring people you find outside now?”
Oliver closed the folder.
“Her name is Audrey.”
“I didn't ask.”
“No.”
“You made up the rest without asking.”
Cole stared.
Then lowered his voice.
“Take the offer.”
“Move somewhere newer.”
“Your daughter gets stability.”
“You stop carrying eighteen other families like they're your responsibility.”
Oliver’s expression hardened.
“They aren't delays on a project schedule.”
Cole smiled without warmth.
“You cannot save an old block because your wife once liked the windows.”
Silence.
Audrey looked at Oliver.
That hit.
Oliver pushed the folders back.
“Send inspection dates in writing.”
“Every contractor.”
“Every unit.”
“Every area they intend to enter.”
Cole picked up the folders.
“You think paperwork protects people?”
“It tells us who did what.”
Cole looked at Audrey again.
Then left.
Audrey waited.
“Does he always speak that way?”
“Only after no.”
That evening, Audrey met Marcus in a parking garage several blocks away.
The location changed twice before she arrived.
Marcus handed her a thick folder.
“Contractor records.”
Audrey opened it.
Three companies.
One consulting firm.
Payments routed through subcontractors.
Then to a company controlled by Cole Barrett’s brother-in-law.
“How much?”
“Enough to matter.”
“Enough to prove fraud?”
“Not yet.”
“Preston?”
“No direct payment.”
“But he approved accelerated phases.”
Audrey looked at another page.
“Harbor Row demolition is scheduled before quarterly audit.”
“Yes.”
“If demolition begins, historical invoices roll into construction cost.”
“Exactly.”
Audrey closed the folder.
“Freeze every safety-sensitive activity.”
“Boiler.”
“Electrical.”