The Concrete Line Is a Bitter Shield When Your Entire Reputation Is Drafted by an Exposed Hand
CHAPTER 1: THE ACCUSATION “You’re thirty-six inches over the municipal easement,” the voice said from the shadow of the property line, dry as dead fescue. Elena didn’t look up from her phone. The screen was a blue-white rectangle of cold light in the dim kitchen, reflecting against the pristine quartz countertop she was still paying…