Chapter 32. Ashes of Him

The envelope was heavier than it looked, its weight a promise of consequence. Max sat alone in his dimly lit office for nearly an hour, fingers tracing the felt embossing of the letterhead on the thick, creamy paper within. He turned it over and over, as though the mere heft of the documents might steel his resolve for what he was about to say. The afternoon light slanted through the blinds, striping the desk in gold and shadow, and he closed his eyes, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside.

When he finally left, the sun had dipped lower, and autumn had settled across the streets like a whispered secret. Leaves, the color of melted amber and burnished bronze, danced in the breeze along the sidewalk. Every surface—pavement, parked car, wrought-iron gate—shimmered in that slowing golden hour. He felt the sudden chill of approaching evening, but the air still carried the last warmth of the day.

At the foundation’s gallery, Alyssa’s team was busy in the back, unpacki