The blueprint was a lie, but the software never blinked.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Leo, the new contractor: “Got the laser level on the second floor. Something’s wrong with your model. The west wall is 4 inches out of plumb. Did you account for foundation settling?”

She hit send at dawn.

The west wall now tapered. The nook lost six inches of headroom. The storm closet moved to the stairwell landing. It wasn’t what the Whitmores had wept over. But it would stand.