REMI'S POV
Patricia's conference room was different when it was yours.
I'd been in it twice — once for the contract review, which had felt like standing on uncertain ground, and once for the signing, which had felt like choosing. Today it felt like neither of those things. Today it felt like standing at the edge of something with no clear floor beneath it, and having decided to step anyway.
Patricia was there when I arrived, eight fifty-five, five minutes early. She had a folder and the reading glasses and the particular expression of someone who has been briefed on everything and is prepared to be useful in whatever way the moment requires.
"How are you?" she said.
"Functional," I said.
"Good enough." She poured water. "They'll arrive at nine. There will be two of them. Emory Vane a
