"So, you actually came?" I turned to find my half-brother, Ryan Hayes, walking toward me with a glass of wine in one hand and that familiar fake smile plastered across his face. "Were you expecting me to miss Grandfather's birthday?" Ryan laughed and stopped beside me, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on something. "Birthday? Is that really why you think everyone came here? They're here for one reason, Ethan. Grandfather is naming the next chairman of Hayes Group tonight." He glanced around the ballroom before looking back at me. "So don't embarrass yourself expecting your name to be called." "I'm not here for an announcement, Ryan." "You're good at pretending money doesn't matter." "Of course it matters. Just not more than family." He shook his head, still laughing. "You still believe this family exists?" Before I could answer, Victoria Hayes appeared beside us in an elegant red evening gown, smiling warmly like she'd walked into the middle of a much friendlier c

An officer led me to a small interview room and unlocked the door. "Your visitor is inside." The man who stood when I walked in looked like he hadn't slept his suit still sharp despite the hour, but something heavy sitting behind his eyes. "Mr. Ethan Hayes. Thank you for agreeing to see me." "I'm sorry do I know you?" "No. My name is Benjamin Brooks. I've been Charles Hayes's personal attorney for over thirty years." My grandfather's lawyer. I sat across from him, and the door closed behind me, leaving the two of us alone with whatever he had come to say. For a moment neither of us spoke. Then he opened his briefcase and pulled out an ivory envelope, and the second I saw the handwriting on it, For Ethan my breath caught. that handwriting looks familiar. "When did he write this?" "About three weeks ago." I looked up sharply. "Three weeks? He knew?" Benjamin let out a slow breath. "He believed his life was in danger." "If he thought someone wanted to hurt him, why didn't he te

Keys rattled against the bars, pulling me out of a restless half-sleep. "Hayes. On your feet. You've got a court hearing."For the first time since my arrest, I let myself hope maybe the judge would see there wasn't enough evidence, maybe I'd walk out while the investigation continued. I followed the guard through the station past officers who glanced at me and whispered to each other, and I understood, somewhere in the walk, that the news had already spread. To them I wasn't Ethan Hayes anymore. I was the man who killed his own grandfather.Reporters had taken over the courthouse entrance by the time we arrived, cameras flashing before the van even stopped. Ethan! Did you kill Charles Hayes? Did you poison him for the company? Do you have anything to say to the Hayes family? I kept walking. There was no point answering nobody wanted the truth, they wanted a headline.The courtroom was packed. Journalists filled the back rows, board members from Hayes Group sat together whispering, an

The cell door flew open. Three correctional officers walked in. "Against the wall!" one of them shouted, and Daniel raised his hands and stepped back without arguing. I did the same, my shoulder blades pressed against cold concrete while boots moved past us into the small space.They tore the cell apart. Blankets thrown aside, the thin mattresses flipped and checked underneath, every seam of every corner searched like they expected to find something sewn into the fabric itself. One of them stopped in front of Daniel. "Where is it?""Where's what?"The officer grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him against the wall hard enough that the back of Daniel's head knocked against the concrete. "Don't play games with me.""I honestly don't know what you're talking about." For a second I thought the guard was going to hit him — his fist had already curled, his weight already shifting forward — until another officer called over from the doorway. "Leave it. There's nothing here." The first

The officer led me through a series of hallways without a word, and I spent the walk guessing who was waiting for me. Benjamin? Someone from the board? A reporter looking for a quote? When we stopped outside the visitation room, he unlocked the door. "Your lawyer is here."A woman stood the moment I stepped in — early thirties, a navy-blue pantsuit, a few files already arranged on the table in front of her. She looked calm. Confident. Nothing about her suggested she was nervous to defend a man the whole country had already decided was a murderer."Mr. Ethan Hayes." She offered her hand."You must be Isabella Carter." Her handshake was firm."Please, sit." The officer closed the door and left us alone, and for a few seconds she just looked at me. "You look exhausted.""I haven't slept much.""I didn't expect you to." She opened the file in front of her. "I've spent most of the night reading everything about your case.""And?""If I only looked at the headlines, I Would probably have b