Even the air in the small park between two crowded streets felt tired, pressing down on everything it touched. Long shadows stretched across the grass, bending slowly as the sun dipped lower.
Jonathan Reed barely noticed any of it.
There had been a time when his name carried weight—spoken in glass-walled boardrooms and international conferences with a kind of quiet respect. Deals closed when he entered a room. People listened.
Now, he sat hunched forward on a weathered wooden bench, his shoulders curved inward, like a man crushed by something no amount of money could solve.
Beside him sat his daughter, Lily Reed, only seven years old.
Her small fingers clutched a white cane, holding it tightly, almost desperately, as if it were the only thing keeping her steady in a world that had slowly begun to disappear. Despite the sweltering heat, she wore a soft gray sweater, pulled close around her body like a shield.
Jonathan glanced at his watch out of habit. The movement was automatic now—time had lost its meaning weeks ago. Days blurred together into long, sleepless nights filled with unanswered questions.