“No.”
I stared.
Another possible layer.
“Show Maya.”
“Already did.”
Good.
She ordered material testing.
The sealant contained a solvent that could off-gas for months if incorrectly mixed.
The contractor had documented an application problem.
A batch cured slowly.
It had supposedly been removed.
But not all of it.
A section remained behind finished walls.
Would that explain two years of illness?
Probably not alone.
But combined with poor ventilation, ozone, fragrance concentrate?
Maya called it:
“An exposure stack.”
That phrase
fit.
Not one poison.
Several ordinary things accumulating.
The boys’ floor had become a chemically irritating environment without anyone ever meaning to create one.
Then Thomas found the approval signature on the renovation invoice.
Nathan’s brother.
Michael Coleman.
The room shifted again.
Nathan looked at the document.
“Michael approved this?”
Thomas nodded.
Michael had died four years earlier.
Before Catherine.
Before the boys became sick.
Nathan stared.
“My brother managed the estate then.”
