ChaThe wind hit harder that morning. It wasn’t the kind of cold that made you reach for a coat it was the kind that made you pause, that whispered something was about to change.

Violet stared at the photograph again, her thumb tracing the faint crease that ran through her father’s face. The inked message“History repeats when lessons are ignored”burned brighter in her mind than the sunrise creeping over the skyline.

Bryan was already dressed, a fresh suit, hair combed back, phone pressed to his ear. “I’ve cross checked every corporate merger from that year,” he said, pacing. “Nothing connects directly. Whoever this man in the black suit is he’s...