"Your family will what?" Ethan's eyes bore into Peter's with the particular coldness of someone who'd exhausted their last reserve of patience. "Disown you? Cut you off? Pretend they don't know you? That's going to happen regardless of what's on this phone, Peter. The only question is how much worse you want to make things for yourself before you accept reality."Peter's fingers scrolled through his messages with the reluctant cooperation of a man being forced to dig his own grave. He opened the conversation with Marcus Reeves, revealing the initial contact. The discussion of payment. The specific instructions about what kind of damage to inflict. The request for a live stream.Ethan read through them with methodical patience, his expression unchanging as he absorbed the specific cruelty of Peter's instructions. Break his confidence. Make it visible. Film everything.Jolie moved closer and read over Ethan's shoulder. Her expression went from composed to something much harder as she pr

Ethan didn't lower the phone."Keep going," Ethan said, his voice carrying the particular flatness of someone issuing instructions they expected to be followed without hesitation or argument.Peter looked at the camera with the hollowed-out expression of a man who'd already given away more than he could afford and was now being asked to empty what remained."I don't know what else you want me to—""Tell the camera what happened today," Ethan said. "Tell it how your plan actually turned out."Peter's face crumbled further, each word Ethan spoke stripping away another layer of whatever dignity he'd been clinging to."I... I underestimated him," Peter said into the lens, his voice cracking at the edges. "I hired six trained men to attack one person. I thought it would be easy. I thought he would fold immediately."His breathing hitched. "The entire operation failed. Completely. Every single part of it.""And your men?" Ethan prompted from behind the camera.Peter's chin dropped toward hi

The Peter Morgan situation had been filed away before lunch. Not suppressed or avoided, just processed and categorized the way Ethan processed everything now, with the clinical efficiency of someone who'd learned that emotional reactions to solved problems were a waste of energy better spent elsewhere.His phone buzzed just past noon. Julian Cross, one of the few genuine friendships Ethan had maintained from before his three years of living anonymously. They'd grown up together, attended the same private schools, shared the particular bond that forms between boys who understand each other's worlds without needing to explain them."Lunch?" Julian's voice was casual but something underneath it wasn't."Where?" Ethan asked."Rosetti's. The one on Fifth."Ethan arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later and found Julian already seated at a corner table, a glass of water untouched in front of him, his eyes fixed on the menu without actually reading it.Julian was a good-looking man in

The meal continued in tense silence after Ethan's observations about Derek's watch and suit. Amanda kept glancing at Derek with eyes that held the first cracks of doubt, while Derek overcompensated with louder stories about deals he'd closed and clients he'd impressed.Julian ate quietly, his earlier humiliation still sitting heavy in his chest but gradually being replaced by something more watchful as he noticed the same inconsistencies Ethan had pointed out.Then the check arrived.Derek picked it up with the practiced confidence of someone who'd performed this gesture many times. He pulled a sleek black card from his wallet and placed it on the tray with a flourish that was meant to look casual but was clearly rehearsed.The waiter took it, disappeared for two minutes, and returned with an expression of professional discomfort."I'm sorry, sir," the waiter said quietly, leaning down toward Derek. "The card has been declined. Would you like to try another form of payment?"The tempe

Amanda was reaching for her purse, her movements stiff with the urgency of someone who needed to escape a building that was psychologically on fire, when the restaurant entrance swung open with enough force to make the hostess step backward.A woman walked in. Mid-twenties, beautiful in a sharp and deliberate way, wearing a red dress that demanded attention and heels that clicked against the floor like countdown timers. Her eyes scanned the restaurant with the focused precision of someone looking for a specific target.She found Derek three steps from the exit.The slap connected before he even registered her presence. The sound cracked across the silent restaurant like a gunshot, snapping every head in the room toward the entrance. Derek stumbled sideways, his hand flying to his cheek, his eyes going wide with a recognition that carried the specific flavor of guilt."Brianna?" Derek's voice came out strangled. "What are you doing here?""What am I doing here?" Brianna's voice was lou