"We have four days," Nico said.
He said it the way he said most things that mattered: quietly, without inflection, giving the words room to land on their own weight.
He was standing at the study window with his back to the room, and Mara was in the chair she'd started thinking of as hers, and between them on the desk was everything they had.
The coroner's timestamp, Dr. Amante's pill analysis, The controlled leak confirmation, Donna Sylvia's three votes, which came with conditions Mara hadn't yet answered and Don Greco's voting pattern, which her margin notes suggested was less fixed than Bruno assumed.
And on the other side of the ledger: Castellano's documents, now in Bruno's hands, Sal still moving through the estate corridors, unknowing, passing information through a relay that terminated with a man they'd thought was gone, and the tribunal date moved without warning, four days from now instead of eight.
She'd been in this house for less than two months.
