At nine every morning, Mira Vale counted the exits before she counted the people.

It was a habit she had learned from courtrooms, scandal hearings, and the kind of board meetings where everyone smiled as if a smile could be entered into evidence. The thirty-third floor of Helix House had six exits, twelve glass walls, two silent security guards, and one man in a silver waistcoat making a stapler vanish beside the coffee machine.

Mira stopped walking.

The man flicked his wrist. The stapler disappeared. A junior analyst gasped. Someone clapped once, then remembered this was the legal department of VeyraDyne Industries and lowered his hands.

“Please tell me,” Mira said, “you are not the new compliance consultant.”

The man turned. He was tall, dark-haired, and wore the expression of someone who had survived public humiliation by converting it into charm. “No. I’m worse. I’m temporary entertainment for the leadership retreat.”

“This is not a circus.”

“I know. Circuses have stronger ethical guidelines.”

A few people laughed. Mira did not. She had spent four years protecting VeyraDyne from lawsuits, leaks, and the catastrophic optimism of executives. Today, her job was simple: prepare the company’s CEO, Adrian Korr, for a televised civic tribunal called The Public Verdict. The whole country would watch as he testified about the death of Liora Penn, a former VeyraDyne scientist who had allegedly stolen research funds, fled the company, and died in a late-night accident near the river.

Adrian was expected to be cleared in the court of public opinion. He was brilliant, handsome, philanthropic, and cried convincingly in close-up.

Mira did not like him.

She liked facts. Facts did not moisturize before interviews.

“I’m Cassian Holt,” the magician said, offering his hand. “Stage illusionist. Former television cautionary tale. Current man with a visitor badge that keeps deactivating near elevators.”

“Mira Vale. General counsel.”

His smile changed—just slightly. Recognition. “You’re preparing Korr for The Public Verdict.”

“That’s confidential.”

“It’s on three billboards outside.”

Before Mira could answer, her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

DO NOT LET KORR SPEAK UNDER OATH. LIORA DID NOT DIE ALONE.

Attached was a photograph: Liora Penn, alive, in the VeyraDyne lobby at 11:42 p.m. on the night she died.

Standing beside her was Cassian Holt.

Mira looked up.

The magician had stopped smiling.