Chapter One: The Stolen Blueprint

Lena’s palm went slick. A purchase would leave her $2,600, not enough for a roof. Yet doing nothing would leave her with nothing but debt. “Nine thousand.” No one challenged her. The gavel sounded terrifyingly soft. That evening, Lena opened the front door of Seven Sycamore. Mold, wet timber, and old smoke rolled toward her. Water dripped upstairs. She stepped over broken glass and put one hand against a blackened brick wall. The world went silent. Golden lines spread from her fingertips through mortar, beams, and floorboards. Burned plaster peeled away. A buried arch window opened. The kitchen shifted toward the garden, a light well brought in the southern sun, and walnut parquet glowed beneath cheap carpet. Words hung in the air: