Ethan woke up on the floor of a motel room.His back ached. His head pounded. The carpet was cheap and rough against his cheek. He pushed himself up slowly, his muscles screaming in protest. A bruise on his jaw. A cut on his knuckles that he didn't remember getting.He had collapsed here last night. After the gunfire. After the escape. After splitting up with Volkov and Mira. He had driven until he couldn't drive anymore, found this place, and passed out on the floor before he even made it to the bed.He stood up and walked to the sink. The mirror showed him a man he barely recognized. Dark circles under his eyes. Hollow cheeks. A man who hadn't slept in weeks. He splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection.He needed to get to the office. He needed to know what was happening.Seraphina was gone.He hadn't fired her. She hadn't resigned. They had fought. He had accused her. She had denied it. And then she had walked out. That was the last time he saw her. The evidence agai

Ethan stared at Eleanor across the booth. His mind was spinning, trying to catch up with what she had just said. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and sharp, like a blade waiting to fall."What do you mean?" he asked again. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. He could feel the sweat on his palms, the tightness in his chest. He had walked into this meeting expecting to make a deal, not to have his entire understanding of the past few weeks torn apart.Eleanor leaned back in the booth, her fingers wrapped around her wine glass. She took a slow, deliberate sip before setting it down. She was in no hurry. She had all the time in the world, and she wanted him to know it. The ice in her glass clinked softly. The sound seemed too loud in the quiet corner of the bar."I mean Mira has been playing you from the moment she walked into your life." Eleanor's voice was calm, measured, like she was explaining something simple to a child. "She didn't find that evidence on her ow

Ethan was leaving work. His briefcase was in his hand. His mind was at rest for the first time in weeks. Eleanor had promised to handle the audit. She had people. She had connections. She would make it disappear. He was halfway to his car when his phone rang. "Mr. Cross." A woman's voice. Professional. Controlled. "This is Detective Harris from the Special Investigations Unit. We need you to come downtown for questioning regarding illegal activities within Cross Industries." Ethan's blood went cold. "What are you talking about?" "We have reason to believe that illegal shipments and financial irregularities have been conducted under the Cross Industries banner. As the current CEO, you are the responsible party." Ethan's hands were shaking. "I don't know anything about that." "Then you can explain that to us when you come in." The line went dead. Ethan stared at his phone. Andrew and Richard had started to move. They weren't waiting. They were accelerating. The audit evidence w

The door burst open."Hands where I can see them!"Detective Harris stood in the doorway, her gun raised, her eyes locked on Richard. Behind her, two officers fanned out into the room. Their weapons were trained on Richard's chest.Richard didn't move. His gun was still pointed at Ethan, but his eyes had shifted to the officers. His face was pale, but his hand was steady."Drop the weapon!" Harris yelled.Richard smiled. It was cold and thin. "You're too late, Detective. I've already made my decision."Ethan stared at his father. His mind was racing. Andrew was on the floor, still bleeding. Richard was holding a gun. And now the cops were here."Dad," Ethan said. His voice was hoarse. "Put the gun down.""Don't call me that." Richard's voice was flat. "You were never my son. You were a mistake. A liability. Something I should have dealt with years ago."Ethan's hands were shaking. "You don't mean that.""I mean every word." Richard stepped closer to the window. The officers tensed. "I

The coffee had gone cold. The waitress had stopped coming by. The older man at the counter had paid his bill and left. The diner was empty, its fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. The only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen.Ethan and Claire sat across from each other in the booth. Neither of them had touched their cups in the last ten minutes. The silence between them was thick, heavy with everything that had been said and everything that still needed to be said.Claire watched him. His face was drawn, his eyes distant. She could see his mind churning behind them."You're thinking about something," she said.He looked up. "I'm thinking about a lot of things.""Like what?"He didn't answer. He glanced at his watch. The hands read past eight. The streets outside were dark, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement."Claire, it's time to get home."She blinked. "What?""It's getting late. I don't want you o