I held the phone a fraction of an inch away from my ear, watching the dark waves slap against the wooden pilings below.

“You built a house on a weak foundation, Adrian,” I said. “It was only a matter of time before it fell.”

“I can still turn this around,” he said, though his voice lacked any real conviction. “If you tell the judge the engineering reports were open to interpretation, we can halt the liquidation.”

“I won’t lie for you,” I said.

“Please,” he said. “The auction is next week. If those assets go, I have nothing.”

I looked down at the gold foil logo on the envelope in my hand.

“Goodbye, Adrian,” I said.

I ended the call before he could answer.

I walked back toward my car, my boots clicking against the wet asphalt.

The city lights of Chicago were blinking on, a vast grid of steel and glass rising into the dark sky.

As I reached the door of my sedan, my headlights suddenly flashed.

A dark SUV was idling near the entrance of the marina, its headlights aimed directly at me.