"The NDAs?"
"All of it," Preston says, his voice hard again. "The payments to Dr. Aris. The 'Social Calibration' fees. The NDAs."
"What are we going to do with it?" I ask. "Blackmail her?"
"No," Preston says. "Blackmail implies we want money. We don't want money. We wantautonomy."
He walks to the window and looks out at the city.
"She weaponizes shame, Max. That’s her superpower. But this?" He gestures to the screen. "This proves the shame wasn't yours. It was hers. She was ashamed of having a neurodivergent son. She was so ashamed she paid to hide it."
He turns back to me.
"We take this on the tour," Preston says. "We keep it in the pocket. And if she tries to push you—if she tries to make you feel like you’re failing because the music is too loud or the lights are too bright—we remind her that the warranty on her 'Standard of Care' expired in 1999."
I hitPrint. The laser printer in the corner hums to life. It is a satisfying sound.
"And Alistair?" I ask, glancing at the "M. Santos" file.
"We keep digging," Preston says. "If Father is funding a secret life in Costa Rica, maybe he’d like a one-way ticket there sooner than he thinks. If we can get him to vote with us, we override her veto."
The printer spits out the pages. I collect them. They are warm.
"Thank you," I say to Preston.
"Don't thank me," Preston says, checking his watch. "It’s 04:00. We have four hours until the venue tour. I suggest we attempt to achieve REM sleep. You need to be sharp. Rosa Ortiz is expecting a soldier, not a zombie. And please, spare me any further details about Jax’s stamina."
"Noted," I say.
Preston walks to the doorway. He pauses.
"Max?"
"Yes?"
"For the record," Preston says, looking at the floor, then back at me. "I prefer the 'Spectacularly Autistic' version of you. The 'Standard York' was boring as hell."
I smile. It is a real smile.
"Go to sleep, Preston."
"Goodnight, brother."
He walks down the hall. I turn off the laptop. The data has been analyzed. The variables have been isolated.
I am not broken. I am simply a system that was forced to run on the wrong operating system for thirty years.
I pick up the stack of papers.
Project Mergerjust entered the Due Diligence phase. And Catherine York is about to fail the audit.
Chapter 5
The Tour of Terror
Max
The limousine that pulls up to the penthouse is not a car. It is a land-yacht. It is black, sleek, and long enough to require its own zip code.
