Chapter 58. Midnight at the Gallery

When trust breaks, the first pieces are always the hardest to find.

The Founder’s Gallery loomed like a mausoleum of ambition—silent, gold-lit, reverent. Portraits of Ledger’s architects lined the vaulted hall, their faces captured in confident brushstrokes, frozen in legacy. Moonlight spilled through skylights, refracting across their lacquered plaques. The entire corridor felt heavy, built to intimidate. Designed to endure.

Harper stood just outside the threshold, clutching the audio drive in one hand and her father’s kill-code map in the other. The ribbon-clasp at her wrist weighed more than metal—it held betrayal, memory, and a silent dare: Choose who you are now.

Knox had summoned her here. Midnight. No intermediaries. No guards.

It was now or never.

She stepped forward—and he emerged from the shadows.

He wasn’t dressed for war, but he looked like a soldier who hadn’t stopped fighting. His sleeves were rolled up, collar loosened, tension held