The office was already awake when Dayo arrived.
Not loud, just alive in the quiet way buildings became alive before the rest of the city caught up.
The cleaning crew had finished less than an hour earlier. Fresh coffee lingered in the air. The lights across the executive floor glowed softly against the morning darkness outside the windows. New York was still shaking itself awake, but JD Records never truly slept anymore.
Dayo walked past empty desks and glass offices until he reached the conference room Felix had practically claimed as his own.
The black hard drive sat exactly where they had left it. He stopped beside the table and stared at it.
Three days ago it had belonged to Isobel Marchetti.
Now it belonged to him.
Forty years of secrets.
Forty years of evidence.
Forty years of people doing things they never expected anyone would discover.
For most of his life, Dayo had viewed information as a tool.
Useful.
Valuable.
Powerful.
