Six weeks ago, we were following money and legal structures left behind after Ward’s operation was exposed. Tonight, we have the account of a woman placed through the same stages, bound by the same kind of debt, and taught to call buyers donors.
The method is active.
I still don’t know who rebuilt it, what Josie knows, or how many Omegas remain inside it.
I know where we begin.
Tomorrow, I’ll return to Philomena and ask what she needs before anyone asks her for more.
14
Blake
By the time Nicholas brings the potential funding partners into Keller Industries, I can manage shorter stretches without leaning heavily on my cane, but longer days still drain me quickly. Today qualifies as a longer day.
Several representatives sit around the conference table with Ember House expansion packets open in front of them. None of them has been promised influence, access, or a permanent place in the sanctuary’s governance. Nicholas made that clear before the meeting began, and the same restrictions are printed inside every packet: donors won’t receive resident information, control intake decisions, or gain authority over the resident council.
Alastair Mercer sits among them as though he belongs there.
His foundation’s unrestricted donation is modest, no larger than several others Ember House has already accepted. Nicholas invited him under the same terms as everyone else because theexpansion won’t be tied to one donor with enough money to control it.
Alastair behaves exactly as his public record suggests he should. He asks about construction phases, projected operating costs, and whether the staffing plan can support the additional rooms without relying on Keller Industries indefinitely. When the discussion turns to privacy, he doesn’t push for access. He asks how Ember House plans to report outcomes to outside supporters without exposing the people receiving care.
Nothing in his questions gives me a reason to interrupt the meeting.
Nicholas shifts the presentation toward projected intake capacity while I adjust my leg beneath the table. The ache has been building since the second hour, and the tenderness across my chest makes the edge of my shirt feel rougher than it should. I ignore both while Nicholas explains that the expansion will open in stages rather than filling every room at once.
Alastair checks one of the figures before looking toward me. “Gradual growth makes sense. If capacity rises faster than staffing, a stabilization-tiered process can become inconsistent.”
No one else reacts.
The phrase sounds ordinary enough to pass as professional shorthand, but it catches against something in my memory. Ember House doesn’t use it. Luca speaks about individualized care. Blossom talks about intake protocols. The residents rejected any system that sorted people into fixed categories and treated those categories as permanent.
I make a small mark beside the staffing projection without looking toward Maceo or Luther.
“The first rooms won’t open until the staff and resident council agree that the support structure is ready,” I say. “Capacity won’t be increased to satisfy a funding deadline.”
Alastair nods and returns his attention to the packet. “That’s sensible.”
The meeting continues.
He asks one more question about operating reserves, listens while Nicholas explains the proposed funding limits, and offers no objection when Maceo reminds the room that unrestricted donations won’t create voting rights. By the time the formal discussion ends, Alastair still looks like what everyone expects him to be: a retired councilman with a long charitable record and enough money to be useful without becoming essential.
The representatives leave slowly, pausing to speak with Nicholas and collect revised projections. Alastair shakes my hand before he goes, thanks me for the discussion, and says he looks forward to seeing the expansion proceed. I give him the same polite answer I’ve given the others.
Luther closes the conference-room door behind the final guest. The latch settles into place while Nicholas gathers the abandoned water glasses and Maceo stacks the marked packets into a neat pile.
I lower myself into the nearest chair and let the cane rest against my leg. Luther moves behind me without asking whether I need him. His palm settles at the back of my neck, warm beneath my hair, while I tap the note beside the staffing projection.
“He called the intake process stabilization-tiered,” I say.
Maceo’s hand stills over the papers. He takes the packet from me and scans the approved terminology before looking toward Nicholas. “That isn’t in the expansion materials.”
Nicholas steps closer to the table and reads the marked sentence. His brow tightens, but he doesn’t try to explain it away. “It isn’t language I’ve used with any of the funding partners.”
Luther’s thumb presses once beneath my hair. “Ember House doesn’t use it either.”
I lean briefly into his hand while repeating Alastair’s sentence exactly, including the question about staffing and capacity. Maceo writes it down without adding an interpretation, then closes the folder and reaches across the table to squeeze my wrist.
