Davin had always believed collapse was something that happened to other men.

Men who hesitated. Men who trusted. Men who loved.

He stood alone in his office as the city bled light beneath the windows, watching numbers fall on three different screens at once. Red arrows. Flashing alerts. Emergency calls he no longer answered. His name—once spoken with fear and reverence—now crawled across financial news tickers paired with words like investigation, freeze, exposure.

This was not a sudden death.

It was a slow execution.

His phone vibrated again. He ignored it. The device buzzed until it went silent, like a creature giving up. Davin loosened his tie with shaking fingers...