The letter stayed on the table long after Elena stopped reading it.
No one touched it.
No one moved it.
It sat there like it still had weight beyond paper, beyond ink, beyond time.
The vault lights hummed softly above them. A steady sound, almost calm, but it didn't match what they had just read.
Alexander kept his eyes on the document case instead of the letter.
Mateo leaned back against a shelf, arms folded, watching Elena without speaking.
Julian closed his laptop slowly, like even the sound might break something.
Elena finally pushed the letter aside.
Not because it was finished.
Because she needed space to think.
The founder didn't write like someone asking for help.
She wrote like someone already running out of time.
Warnings came again and again.
Not one voice.
Not one meeting.
Different names. Different sources. Same message.
Stop Corridor expansion.
Stop the last shipment.
Stop the route through the coast.
Stop before it's too late.
