Jack stared at the phone for several seconds after the call ended, the screen still faintly glowing in Tasha’s hand. The low growl of the mysterious man’s voice echoed in his ears. Every word had dripped with threat, with certainty. Whoever that man was, he knew Harry—and clearly, he wasn’t afraid of Jack.Walter slowly removed his glasses and folded them on the table. “That didn’t sound like one of Agnes’s usual puppets.”“No,” Jack said slowly, “that was something else.”Tasha replayed the call in her mind. “Did you hear what he said? ‘Your father made promises he didn’t keep.’ That doesn’t sound like a legal problem. That sounds… personal.”Walter narrowed his eyes. “There are people Harry kept at a distance, enemies he managed quietly, behind closed doors. You don’t rise to the top without burying some dirty secrets. But he kept most of those dealings locked in private files.”“Where are they now?” Jack asked.“In his vault,” Walter replied. “But that’s only accessible through bio

The city lights bled against the evening mist as the hour crept past 8 p.m. Hamsville’s financial district, once teeming with evening suits and the hum of office chatter, had quieted into an eerie, watchful hush. Only the occasional flicker of a passing car disturbed the stillness.In Reynolds HQ’s top floor office, Jack Reynolds stood by the window, the glow of the city stretching out before him. The card with the words “We see you” rested on the glass table behind him, its message gnawing at the edge of his thoughts.He could feel the building watching him. Not through cameras, not through security, but through the eyes of those whose loyalties he hadn’t yet uncovered.Tasha stepped in quietly, her sharp heels muffled against the thick carpet. In her hand was a slim black folder. She didn’t speak right away, but her expression said enough.“Let’s have it,” Jack said without turning.She moved beside him, laying the folder down. “Margaret Yuen. I had Elise dig into her access logs. S

The private suite on the 27th floor of Reynolds HQ had once belonged to Harry Reynolds. After his retirement, Agnes had claimed it for herself. Dark mahogany shelves lined the walls, each filled with expensive trinkets from decades of influence. Now, those relics felt like mocking reminders of what she’d just lost.Agnes stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, her reflection sharp in the glass, city lights still dim in the weak morning mist. She gripped a crystal glass of dark bourbon — not her usual drink, but this was not an ordinary morning.Declan paced behind her, his jaw tight. “We should have stopped him before this. Called Hart sooner. He will bury him when we have the chance.”Agnes’s voice was calm but cold. “And risk an investigation while the old man’s body was still warm? No. That boy was supposed to crawl back to whatever gutter he came from.”“Well, he didn’t,” Declan snapped. “He embarrassed us. Humiliated us in front of the board.”Agnes turned then, her gaze sharp

Dawn hadn't even cracked the sky yet when Tasha Connors leaned against the long glass window of Reynolds HQ’s executive floor, her phone pressed to her ear. The city below was still wrapped in blue-black shadows, headlights scattered like moving stars through the streets.On the other end of the line, a woman’s voice answered.“This is Marcy.”Tasha smiled. “Marcy, it’s been a long time.”Marcy Grey had once been the sharpest project auditor in Hamsville before a scandal — orchestrated by Olivia’s brother, Chris Rhoades — cost her her job and reputation. Tasha had always kept tabs on people like Marcy. The discarded. The angry. The overlooked.They were the most dangerous kind.“I heard about the funeral,” Marcy said cautiously. “And about Jack.”“He’s not hiding anymore,” Tasha replied smoothly. “And neither should you.”A pause.“What do you need?” Marcy asked.Tasha’s smile turned razor-thin. “There’s a housing development project in the East District. Under Goldmark Industries. Bu

Patricia Rhoades stormed through the front doors of her Westgrove home, the thick heels of her shoes striking the marble floor like gunshots. Olivia and Chris followed behind, both pale and silent. The house staff, sensing the storm rolling in, wisely scattered.Patricia yanked off her pearl earrings and threw them onto the side table with a sharp clatter. Her perfectly styled hair was beginning to fall loose, her face blotchy with fury.“I want that bastard buried,” she spat, pacing the grand foyer like a caged animal. “I want every lawyer, every city official, every favor we’ve ever banked called in!”Chris dropped onto the couch, head in his hands. “It’s too late, Mother. The contracts are frozen. The accounts are flagged. The mayor’s office just issued a public statement — they’re launching a full investigation.”Patricia rounded on him, her voice shrill. “Then bribe someone! We built this family name on connections, Chris! Use them!”Chris looked up, eyes hollow. “Half of them wo