Chapter 96. She Is Pregnant

S:

The clang of metal against concrete rings sharp against the night air. Sparks scatter like fireflies as one of the welders seals a support beam near the far side of the reconstruction site. I walk slowly, my boots crunching over debris and loose gravel. The air smells of scorched steel and fresh paint. There’s a certain rhythm to the chaos. A pattern beneath the noise. One I’ve learned to read.

“Make sure the pipeline’s insulated before you pour the cement,” I tell one of the younger workers. He nods nervously, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of a gloved hand.

“Yes, sir. Already on it.”

I move on. Another corner. Another piece of the puzzle.

Rebuilding the gas company is like pulling my own spine back into place, vertebra by vertebra. It's painful. Necessary. I have to supervise everything myself—there's no room for mistakes. Not after what Leonardo did.

Still, as the minutes bleed into hours and the crew slowly thins out, I find myself