Livia laid out the corporate structure in plain English. The building was held by a former Valerio freight subsidiary now under independent restructuring supervision. Its proposed sale would help pay obligations to workers losing jobs as the old freight division was wound down. The sale was not final, and Dante could not revoke the entire process on his own. The residents had separate leases and rights. Any alleged community-use agreement required legal examination.
“Are you going to choose those workers over us?” Keisha asked.
“I don't know what the lawful options are yet,” Dante said. “If I pretend I do, you'll have reason not to trust me.”
Rosa stared at him. “Your father always knew what to say.”
“He was very good at that.”
“He once told us the room would belong to our children.”
Dante looked at the photographs on the wall. “Did he put that in writing?”
“I don't know,” Rosa admitted. “But we did.”
Livia asked permission to photograph Pearl's invoice and the receipt numbers. She recommended that the tenants have their own lawyer, not one paid to represent the seller. She also said the materials should be preserved because a property sale could involve multiple competing claims. Keisha asked direct questions about repairs, advance notice, and who would pay if her mother had to move while work was done. Livia answered what she knew and made a list of what she didn't.
For once, a meeting with Dante lasted two hours without anyone raising a voice.
After lunch, he offered to pay for an independent building inspection through a fund administered by a neighborhood nonprofit, subject to the residents' consent. Rosa listened, then shook her head.
“I don't want you sending somebody into my kitchen tomorrow because you feel guilty.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I want repairs done by somebody we're allowed to question.”
“Then the residents' representative can choose the inspector. The payment shouldn't buy me control over the report.”
Rosa considered that. “Now you're learning.”
Selene went downstairs with him. Outside, the street was bright and windy. Dante stood beside a patched brick wall and studied the aging windows.
“This is worse than I thought,” he said.
“Because it's a bigger liability?”
“Because they're telling the truth about a place, and I almost signed it away without knowing its name.”
“Those aren't the same problem,” Selene replied. “Both matter.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “There's something else. The board's worker transition plan assumes the sale proceeds will arrive this quarter. If they don't, some people may have to wait for money they're owed.”
“Then those people belong in the conversation, too.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Do you still want me to move in?”
His face changed. “Is that really what you're thinking about?”
“Yes. I don't want every time we disagree about your companies to become an argument about whether I have a place to sleep.”
“Your home wouldn't depend on agreeing with me.”
“Then give me time to believe that without giving up my own lease.”
He nodded. He was disappointed, but he didn't hide the fact or try to reverse her decision. “All right.”
That evening Mara sent Talbot a demand to remove Selene's name from its publicity and to preserve communications concerning how it had been added. The company replied with a brief statement calling the attribution an administrative misunderstanding. Mara asked for a correction as prominent as the original claim. She did not accept the first email as the end of the matter.
Meanwhile Pearl took Tomas to an old lawyer's storage office, where they found a transfer ledger and a box of files marked HARBOR CIRCLE. The present owner permitted copies but warned that he hadn't examined the records in years.