Ethan’s POV The sky was a perfect shade of blue, the kind that made everything feel like it was going according to plan.The countryside estate was beautiful, and for a moment, it almost felt like I could leave all the chaos behind. The property was vast rolling green hills stretching as far as the eye could see. It was everything I needed: it was perfect for a retreat, just far enough from the city to offer peace but close enough to make any business dealings possible. "Mr. Sinclair, we are here." The driver’s voice broke me from my thoughts. I nodded, checking my watch. I stepped out of the car, adjusting my suit jacket, and surveyed the estate. The property was in pristine condition, with freshly mowed lawns and towering trees surrounding a beautiful colonial style house. My grandfather’s birthday was coming up soon, I wanted to give him a befiting present for his birthday and retirement. "Everything looks good," I muttered to myself, walking toward the agent who had been show

Ethan’s POV “Ethan, you need to sit for this.”I froze just as I reached for my phone on the coffee table. Jordan never used that tone unless it was big. Life-altering big.“Talk to me,” I said, pacing to the window as my fingers tightened around the phone. “What did you find?”“Your hunch was dead-on. Nathan’s not just behind the pills I traced. He’s personally supplying a private circle of elite clients with high-grade narcotics. Cocaine. Fentanyl. Shipped through a chain of fake wellness brands—all tied back to an upscale club downtown. ‘Lavish Red.’ Ring a bell?”I exhaled. “Of course it would be a club. How poetic of him.”“There’s more,” Davis said, voice sharper now. “He’s planning a personal drop-off. Tonight. Midnight. A private VIP lounge. I’ve intercepted texts—he’ll be there with the stuff.”“You’re sure?”“Do I ever call unless I’m sure?”I couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corner of my lips. “No. You don’t.”“Address is 322 Bellerose Street. I’ve already got camera

Vanessa’s POV "Do you realize what this means, Vanessa?!" My father's voice thundered through the marble-floored living room, bouncing off the walls like a ricocheting bullet. I didn’t flinch. I’d grown used to his shouting—especially when things didn’t go his way. He jabbed his phone on the coffee table so hard I feared it would shatter. "Nathan is rotting in a holding cell and I can’t find a single damn lawyer who’s willing to take this case!" "Maybe," I said quietly, "they're just afraid of being associated with a sinking ship." He spun to me like a storm. "You think this is funny?" "Did I laugh?" "Don't play smart with me, Vanessa. This isn't the time." "Then when is the time, Dad? When the cops storm Hale Pharmaceuticals? Or when the SEC tears into our offshore accounts?" He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and resumed pacing. “Goddamn it! Where the hell is Raymond?” Raymond was his long-time fixer. If anyone could’ve pulled us out of this mess, it was him. But

Vanessa’s POV “Ethan, please.” My voice dropped. I hated the tremble I heard in it, but I kept going. “You came here for a reason. Maybe to gloat, maybe to talk. But I’m asking you… please help him.”Nathan growled beside me like a wounded animal. “Vanessa, shut up!”I ignored him.“Help him,” I repeated. “For old time’s sake, or for the sake of whatever little decency you have left.”Ethan chuckled. Not the kind that was amused. The kind that made my skin crawl. Cold, deliberate, and... condescending.“Decency?” he finally spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You’re asking me about decency?”I swallowed.Nathan scoffed. “You see? He’s playing you. He always has.”But Ethan continued, his eyes fixed on me now.“You know, when I was locked up… when your beloved brother came to visit, he didn’t bring a lawyer. He brought laughter. Mocked me through the glass, said it suited me.”He turned to Nathan now, who was grinding his teeth.“You remember what you said to me that day? ‘This is where

Ethan’s POV“They let him escape?”I shot up from my chair so fast my pen rolled off the desk. The moment I caught a glimpse of the headline flashing across the screen, I knew something had gone terribly wrong.“Breaking News: Notorious Hale Heir Escapes Police Custody. Details Emerging”I stared at the screen in disbelief as the reporter’s voice echoed from the speakers, steady and grave.“Earlier this evening, convicted felon Nathan Hale escaped custody while being transported from the High Court to the Federal Penitentiary. According to eyewitness reports, the police convoy was ambushed by unidentified assailants believed to be professionally trained mercenaries. The ambush occurred along the Grandway Route—an isolated stretch typically used for high-profile prisoner transfers to avoid traffic.”Of all the roads in this damn city… why the Grandway?The screen shifted to shaky amateur footage. Smoke. Sirens. Screams. Two police vehicles overturned, one on fire. Masked men, seven, ma