Chapter One: The Stolen Blueprint

An old calendar alert appeared: municipal distressed-property auction, 2:00 p.m. She had created it while scouting projects for Obsidian. The firm ignored anything below a hundred thousand dollars, but Lena remembered Seven Sycamore Street—a fire-damaged house with water intrusion, clean title, and a nine-thousand-dollar opening bid. Half an hour later, she sat in the courthouse basement. The Victorian house on the screen looked like a rotten tooth. One gable had collapsed, boards covered the windows, and weeds reached the porch rail. “Twelve grand just to keep it standing,” a contractor muttered. The auctioneer called nine thousand. No paddle rose.