“Can we fight that in court?” I asked.

“It could take five to ten years in appellate court,” Denise said. “And the government usually wins these forfeitures.”

She looked at me with deep concern in her eyes.

“They will put this building up for public auction,” she said. “A developer will buy it and tear it down.”

I looked back at the wooden tables, the old brass fixtures, and the history embedded in the walls.

My mother had spent her life trying to get this place back.

If the government seized it, the Wren legacy would be erased forever.

“If you take his deal,” Denise whispered, “you get the deed tonight, clean and clear.”

Nico stood by the table, watching us with a cold, patient expression.

He knew he had found the one pressure point that could break me.

“Well, Harper?” Nico asked, his voice echoing in the damp space. “Do we have a partnership?”

Mrs. Evelyn Bellamy sat quietly on a wooden crate near the stairs, her frail hands folded in her lap.

She looked up at me, her faded blue eyes filled with a lifetime of quiet observation.