Chapter 43: Truth
Max hesitated. That hesitation told Sean everything.
"I can try," said Max. "But a firm handling this kind of client almost certainly has serious security. Better than Victor’s people. Possibly better than anything I’ve worked against before."
"What do you need," said Sean.
"Time," said Max. "And probably another infusion of resources. This isn’t a job I can rush without increasing my exposure."
Sean thought about Foster standing across the street. About the calm, unbothered voice on the phone. About four hundred million dollars in property holdings built on the same kind of cruelty that had nearly destroyed Makima’s family.
"Take whatever time you need," said Sean. "But Max. If you start feeling like someone’s watching you the way Foster was watching me. You stop immediately and you call me. Don’t try to be a hero about it."
Max looked at him for a long moment. Something passed across his face, gratitude maybe, or just the simple relief of being told someone actually cared whether he made it through this in one piece.
"Yeah," said Max quietly. "Okay."
---
The Next Morning
Sean woke up to a knock at his door at seven thirty. Soft, careful, familiar.
Makima.
He opened the door. She was dressed for the day already, blouse and trousers, hair pulled back neatly. But her expression had something tighter in it than usual.
"There’s a man downstairs," she said without preamble. "Said his name is Walsh. Said he’s part of a new security arrangement for the building. James apparently set it up." She crossed her arms. "I run this building, Sean. Nobody arranges security for it without going through me first."
Sean felt a flicker of frustration at James’s timing, though he understood the urgency that had driven it. "I asked him to," said Sean. "I should have told you myself before he showed up."
Makima’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Why does this building suddenly need security? We just got through one crisis. Is there another one?"
Sean looked at her for a moment. He thought about lying. About telling her it was nothing, just an insurance recommendation, something boring and bureaucratic.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t lie to her directly.
"There might be," he said carefully. "I don’t have all the details yet. But there’s a possibility that whatever was connected to Victor Hale didn’t end when he signed that agreement. I’m trying to find out how serious it is before I worry you with specifics."
Makima’s jaw tightened. "Sean."
"I know," said Sean.
"You can’t keep doing this," she said. Her voice wasn’t angry. It was something closer to scared, carefully controlled. "You can’t keep handling enormous things by yourself and then just telling me ’there might be a problem’ after the fact. Danny is my brother. This building is everything my parents built. If something bigger is coming, I need to know enough to protect the people who live here."
Sean held her gaze. She was right, and he knew it.
"Okay," he said. "Come upstairs. I’ll tell you what I actually know."
---
He told her most of it. Not the system. Not the regression. Not the exact mechanics of how he’d built his wealth so fast. But he told her about Richards, about the pattern Max had found, about Lockhart Holdings, about the four hundred million dollars in acquisitions across multiple cities, about Foster standing across the street the night before.
Makima sat very still through all of it, her coffee cup forgotten on the table in front of her.
When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"You’re telling me," she said slowly, "that the man who tried to take my building was working for something much bigger. And that thing now knows your name. And possibly mine."
"Yes," said Sean.
"And you’ve been carrying this for three days without telling me."
"I didn’t want to scare you before I understood what we were actually dealing with."
Makima looked at him with an expression that was hard to read, frustration and fear and something underneath both of those that looked almost like resolve.
"I’m not a fragile person, Sean," she said. "I survived three months of watching this building slip through my fingers without falling apart. I can handle being scared if it means I actually understand what’s happening around me."
"I know that," said Sean quietly. "I’m sorry."
She studied him for a long moment. Then something in her posture softened slightly. "The security detail," she said. "Walsh. Is he legitimate?"
"James vouches for him," said Sean. "Former military. Discreet. He’ll watch the building without making it obvious."
Makima nodded slowly, processing. "Fine. I’ll allow it. But Sean, going forward, I want to know things as they happen. Not three days later."
"Deal," said Sean.
She looked at him for another moment, and something in her expression shifted into worry that she couldn’t quite hide anymore. "Are you in danger?"
Sean thought about the question honestly before answering. "I don’t know yet," he said. "I think they’re still deciding what I am to them. A threat or an opportunity."
"And if they decide you’re a threat?"
"Then I’ll deal with it," said Sean. "The same way I dealt with Victor."
"Victor was one man with a real estate company," said Makima quietly. "This sounds like something else entirely."
"It is," said Sean. "But I’m not the same person I was when I started dealing with Victor either."
Makima looked at him for a long moment, like she was trying to read something underneath his words that he wasn’t quite saying out loud. Then she reached across the table and took his hand.
"Be careful," she said. The same two words. Always the same two words.
"I will," said Sean.
---
Campus, Later That Day
Sean walked across the quad with Walsh’s presence somewhere behind him, close enough to matter, far enough to be invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for him. It was strange having someone watching his back. He wasn’t used to needing it.
His phone buzzed during his second class. A text from Marcus, the investment club guy from the dining hall.
