They called my outfit ridiculous before I even reached the reception desk,

The arrest of Councilman Vance sent a shockwave through the political and corporate establishment of Columbus.

By noon, the federal dragnet had expanded. Warrants were executed at the corporate offices of Sterling’s primary financial backers, uncovering a massive web of municipal kickbacks, zoning fraud, and illegal land grabs designed to bankrupt smaller independent developers.

Inside the forty-second-floor executive suite at Alderstone, Richard Sterling was packing his personal belongings into a cardboard box.

His bespoke suits hung limply on a garment rack near the door. His desk was completely stripped of family photos, expensive fountain pens, and decorative crystal awards.

The heavy glass door pushed open.

Alexander Alder stood in the doorway, watching him with cold, impassionate eyes.

"You're finished, Richard," Alexander said quietly. "The board voted unanimously an hour ago to revoke your executive partnership and strip your voting shares under the moral turpitude clause."

Sterling didn't look up from his box. He shoved a heavy stack of legal folders into the cardboard, his face twisted in bitter hatred. "You think you won, Alexander? You and that little charity case of a girl? You're building houses for people who can't even afford proper property taxes. Alderstone is a corporate titan, not a social welfare agency."

"Alderstone is whatever my father and Ray Carter built it to be," Alexander replied. "And men like you—parasites who bleed cities dry for a quick percentage—have no place in it."

Sterling let out a dry, venomous laugh, lifting his box and walking toward the door. As he passed Alexander, he stopped for a fraction of a second.

"Enjoy your little victory, Alexander. But remember: power doesn't belong to the sentimentalists. It belongs to the cold."