Over the line, there was no anger. No shouting. Just the sound of a quiet room, followed by the calm, measured voice of her father, Arthur, who had clearly taken the phone from his daughter.

“Hello, Marcus,” Arthur said smoothly. “The decree was stamped at three fifty-five. At four o’clock, Simone exercised her legal right as primary custodian to update all security credentials across the network. You were granted access to residual liquid funds, not authorized overdraft privileges on her private credit. You spent the last six months assuming we weren’t watching the ledger. We were.”

“Arthur, listen to me—”

“I suggest you call your personal bank before the manager calls the precinct, Marcus. Have a pleasant evening.”

The line went dead.

Marcus looked up at the manager, whose arm was now extended toward the back hallway. “Sir. If you cannot settle the balance immediately, we will need to secure the necklace and step into the office to involve the authorities.”

Julia didn’t wait for him to respond. With trembling hands, she unclasped the diamond necklace, slammed it onto the tray, took her coat, and walked swiftly toward the elevator without looking back at him once.

Marcus sat alone in the center of the illuminated room, the silver tray holding three useless pieces of plastic, surrounded by the quiet hum of a city he no longer controlled.