In reality, it was where I met with Marcus to manage a commercial real estate portfolio worth eighty million dollars.

I unlocked the door.

The air inside was cool and smelled faintly of lavender-scented cleaning spray.

I turned on the desk lamp and sat down.

On my desk lay a courier envelope that Marcus had dropped off earlier this morning.

It contained a copy of the signed non-renewal notice for Ralston Enterprises.

The delivery receipt showed it had been signed for at Graham’s office at 4:45 PM yesterday.

My personal phone buzzed on the desk.

It was a text from Graham.

*We have a minor issue with the landlord on Oak Lawn. Just some clerical error. I’m handling it.*

I stared at the screen.

*Some clerical error.*

He was still trying to keep up his illusion of success, even to his own wife.

He had no idea that the landlord was sitting in a modest office off Preston Road, wearing a plain linen blouse.

I tucked the non-renewal notice into my bottom drawer and locked it.

Then, I pulled out a blank notepad.