He had won time again.
Within hours, the newspaper received a legal threat challenging portions of its reporting and emphasizing the supposed concerns surrounding Ashworth Capital. Talia's editor consulted counsel. They temporarily removed the most recent article from the homepage while reviewing the new allegations. The article's underlying verified facts remained documented, but the public spotlight shifted toward whether the young investor himself had something to hide.
Malik watched the reversal from Odell's apartment. He saw the leadership vote postponed. He saw the headlines describing transaction uncertainty. He saw online comments asking why a nineteen-year-old controlled so much capital and whether the company had been wise to trust him.
For the first time since the arrest, the exhaustion overwhelmed his anger.
"Every time we prove something," he said, "he makes the problem bigger."
Odell sat across from him. "That's because he doesn't need his version to survive forever. He needs it to survive until people get tired."
"I'm tired," Malik admitted.
Odell nodded. "I know."
Malik stood and walked to the window. Far below, headlights moved through the streets. The city looked indifferent to everything happening in the tower.
"I want to go back to the lobby," he said.
"Why?"
"I need to understand how he can still be winning after everyone saw what he did."
Odell didn't immediately refuse. He simply took his coat from the back of the chair.
"Then you're not going alone."
Yarrow Tower was nearly empty when they arrived that evening. The main lobby lights were bright, but the desks had been cleared and the elevators moved only occasionally. Security recognized Malik and allowed him to enter. Rachel had arranged guest access through counsel for a short visit to retrieve materials and review the incident site with the investigators.
Malik stopped near the spot where the cuffs had closed around his wrists. He looked down at the marble. The floor was spotless. There was no trace of the papers, no scuff from the guard's shoes, no mark to show that anything unusual had happened.
"Right here," he said.
Odell stood beside him.
"He didn't know my name. He didn't care. Then he found out about the money and suddenly everyone wanted to explain themselves. Now he wants the company to think my money is dangerous because I wouldn't let him call it a misunderstanding."
He turned toward Odell. "How do you fight somebody who changes the rules every time he's losing?"
Odell put his briefcase on a bench. "You stop agreeing to play by his version of the rules."
He unzipped the case and removed several organized folders. He did not scatter confidential records across the public floor. Instead, he laid the closed binders on the bench, each marked with a clear label.
VISITOR RECORDS. CAMERA TIMELINE. PUBLIC STATEMENTS. TRANSACTION DOCUMENTS. BANK REVIEW. BOARD COMMUNICATIONS.
Malik looked at them.
"What's this?"
"Everything we've preserved, indexed, and sent to counsel. Different pieces looked small when we first found them. Together they tell a continuous story."