The room waited like a trap that prefers minutes to teeth.
The aide held the seam. "Open portion for ten," she said. "Harbor cap and public postings."
Ava set the legal pad at the edge where paper looks both ways. Noah took the seat half a step behind and right, the left-shoulder cue exactly where his eyes knew to find it. His collar was open where a tie would live. He did not fix it.
Sofia stood at the door with a slim tablet and a runner's calm. Elias's line lived in the small speaker on the table, light green, not showy.
The CFO aligned his notes as if tidy corners change weather. "Harbor cap plays as optics," he said, mild. "I recommend a prudence freeze on public postings until close."
"Counting box stands," Ava said. "Nearlight Finance countersigned at fourteen eighteen. Vendor will cite at close. Harbor approvals are posting with tokens."
Vivian's gaze moved from the pad to the aide to counsel with the economy of a person who knows what a minute costs. "Pin remains live," she said. "Record that."
The room display behind them tried to draw the city as a friendly map. It showed the public ledger in one corner, the contact slide overlay where panels had wanted to be dramatic this morning.
Elias came in at table level. "Neighborhood soft banners arming," he said. "Cutting bezel. Cutting source. Postmortem pinned small."
Sofia lifted a print as warm as proof. "Harbor tokens 8253 and 8254," she said. "Footer seven eighty-four."
The aide took the strip and set it just inside the seam so the words could be seen by people who prefer paper to arguments.
Noah leaned the smallest degree toward Ava's shoulder. "Instruction," he said.
"Name the footer," she said.
"Seven eighty-four," he said.
Good. She let her thumb find the wood grain at the pad's corner and press once. Under the table Noah's fingers found her wrist and rested there, not decoration, not a claim, a circuit that completed.
A director with a careful page looked over the rim of his glasses. "Who owns the cap knob," he said.
"Nearlight Finance," Ava said. "Scope recorded on a countersign. Charity-cap at source for neighbor gifts under thirty five miles. Other caps unchanged."
"Velocity parameter," another said. "The one compliance keeps naming."
"Nearlight Finance owns it," she said. "Vendor attempted a hold. We cut cosmetic overlays. We do not allow tonight's rule to erase today's paper. Counting method is posted."
Sofia slid a second slip. "Harbor 8255 and 8256," she said. "Footer seven eighty-nine."
The CFO folded one page over another like a stage whisper. "You are performing policy on sidewalks," he said. "It reads as theatre."
"It reads as receipts," Ava said.
Comms took the seam. "Investors quoting 'we do not use vendor names for public safety,'" the voice said. "Off pin."
Vivian nodded once toward the small print under the ledger. "Mirror the cut note beneath the ledger," she said. "No headline."
The aide lifted her pen. "Mirror posted," she said.
A director who had not spoken leaned forward the amount that says he likes winning more than he likes being right. "Are we cooking," he said. "You add approvals. You exclude cash. You sign your own math."
"The method box says what we add and exclude," Ava said. "Vendor will cite at close with matching sums. Nearlight Finance signs the math because we own the weights. If the vendor contradicts paper, the pin will show the cut with names and time."
Noah's fingers tightened once on her wrist and let go. He looked at the pad, the display, the aide's pen, then back to the shoulder that belonged to him at work and to other things in a stairwell. His breathing learned the room and calmed it.
"Vendor blog at fifteen hundred calls countersigns 'safety windows,'" the CFO said. "They are clearly attempting to frame this."
"Which is why we do not adopt their words," Ava said. "We posted ours with time."
The small speaker warmed. Elias again. "City panel at Apple tried blue," he said. "Cut. Names credited."
Vivian lifted a hand that made the room behave. "Record the cut," she said. "Post small. Continue."
The CFO moved the sheet just enough to make a sound. "Motion," he said, mild. "Temporary pause on public postings until seventeen hundred. Prudence while compliance concludes."
"Second," one director said, almost lazily.
Vivian did not look surprised. She looked at counsel. "Before we entertain that," she said, "I want facts."
Ava looked at Sofia. Sofia was already moving. "We can put Harbor on speaker," she said. "Donor consent on record, small gift, tokens read aloud."
Vivian nodded. "Do it."
Sofia set the small speaker nearer the pad. It ticked once. The Harbor lead's voice arrived with steam and cardboard and the kind of steadiness people learn when they count for a living.
"Harbor on," she said. "Consent on record. Five-dollar gift by phone. No names."
"Proceed," Vivian said.
"On count," Ava said.
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," the donor said, a hint of laughter in it because counting had become a civic game.
"One," Ava said.
The sound of a reader, a pause, then the quiet click machines make when they agree with people.
"Read," Vivian said.
"Approved," the Harbor lead said. "Token 8257."
Sofia wrote the number on a slip in block print and passed it to the aide. The aide set it at the seam like a flag that refuses metaphor.
We read the pause into minutes and keep the pin live.
The CFO's smile went thin. "Theatre," he said again, gently, friendly, wrong.
"No," Vivian said. "Minutes."
Counsel touched a corner of the tablet without letting it become a personality. "Freeze motion remains on the table," he said. "We can hear brief argument, then vote."
Comms slipped through like a neighbor with timing. "Vendor float shows an 'Emergency Advisory 15:10,'" the voice said. "Language unknown. Counsel's tablet will get it first."
The tablet blinked. Four words burned there without noise. Vendor Emergency Advisory 15:10.
On the wall display the map darkened at the edges. A narrow red hue began to leak into the city overlay with the patient confidence of a stain. It did not touch the ledger window. It meant to.
Elias's voice flattened. "That banner is not money," he said. "They are trying to paint the city. Cutting bezel. Searching source."
The CFO's eyes brightened the way people's eyes brighten when a storm confirms their worldview. "Then we vote," he said.
Vivian turned her head a fraction. "Ms. Chen," she said.
Ava touched the pad's corner. Do not flinch.
Noah's fingers returned to her wrist and held there in a grip that the public could forgive and the day required.
"Facts first," Ava said. "Then you can vote."
The red deepened by half a shade.