The fluorescent lights above Ethan Moore's hospital bed buzzed like flies circling something rotten. His body was broken. Three cracked ribs, a punctured lung, and internal bleeding that the doctors had been losing the war against for two days now. Every breath felt like swallowing glass. But his ears worked just fine.That was the cruel part.Claire sat in the chair next to his bed. Not holding his hand. Not whispering prayers. She had her phone out, and her voice carried the casual warmth of someone discussing weekend brunch plans."I called the insurance company this morning. The payout is $750,000, but with the accidental clause, it bumps to 1.2 million." Claire crossed her legs and scrolled through her phone without looking up at him once.Margaret leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest. "What about the stock options from his company? Those vest on death, don't they?""Already checked. Full vesting. Around $300,000 after taxes." Claire tapped her nails

The watch store was called Laurent & Fils, and it smelled like old money and leather polish. Glass cases lined every wall, each one glowing soft gold from the display lights underneath. Behind the main counter, a gray haired man in a vest looked up when Ethan walked in wearing the Monarch suit, and his entire posture changed in an instant."Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Laurent & Fils. My name is Charles. How may I assist you today?" The man's voice was smooth and practiced, his hands folded neatly at his waist."I want to see your Patek Philippe collection. Top shelf only." Ethan walked along the display case slowly, his eyes scanning every piece without rushing.Charles moved quickly to unlock the rear cabinet. He pulled out a velvet tray and placed it on the glass counter with the kind of care most people reserved for newborn babies."This is the Grandmaster Chime, sir. Reference 6300G. One of only seven produced worldwide. We are the only authorized dealer in New York currently

Shishi was halfway through a story about a customer who once tried to pay his tab with a Rolex when a voice cut through the jazz music like a knife through butter."Oh my God. Ethan? Ethan Moore?"Ethan's glass stopped an inch from his lips. He knew that voice. High pitched, theatrical, dripping with fake sweetness like syrup poured over something rotten.Natalie Walsh stood three feet from his booth in a tight red dress and gold heels, her blond hair blown out like she was heading to a magazine shoot. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were bouncing between Ethan's face, his suit, the two bottles of Romanee Conti on the table, and the hostess sitting across from him."Natalie." Ethan set his glass down slowly, his face giving away absolutely nothing."It IS you! I almost walked right past. I didn't even recognize you. You look so... different." Natalie pressed her hand against her collarbone, her eyes scanning him from head to toe with the kind of hunger she probably thought was

Ethan stopped three steps from the door. He didn't turn around, but he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black bank card. He held it between two fingers and tossed it onto the bed. It landed near Natalie's knee with a soft tap against the sheets."What's that?" Natalie stared at the card like it might bite her."A prepaid card. $500,000 loaded on it. Consider it payment for your time." Ethan's voice was flat and businesslike, his back still half turned toward the door.Natalie's face went through three expressions in two seconds. Surprise, confusion, and then hot, sharp offense. She picked up the card and held it in the air between her fingers."Payment? You think I'm some kind of escort, Ethan? You think you can throw money at me like I'm something you rented for the night?" Natalie's jaw tightened, her eyes burning into the side of his face.Ethan finally turned around. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. His express

Derek stood on the balcony of the Miami rental condo, shirtless, sunburned, and holding a beer that was already warm. His phone was pressed against his ear, and his voice carried the same lazy confidence of a man who had never worked for anything in his life."Ethan, buddy, listen. I know things got a little heated yesterday with Mom, but you know how she gets. She didn't mean half of what she said." Derek took a long sip of his beer, his tone loose and rehearsed like he had practiced this exact opening in the bathroom mirror."Sure, Derek. What do you need." Ethan's voice came through the speaker flat and emotionless."See, that's what I love about you, man. Straight to business. No drama. You're like the only real one in this family sometimes, you know that?" Derek laughed and leaned against the balcony railing, the ocean breeze ruffling his uncombed hair."What do you need, Derek." Ethan repeated it without a trace of warmth."Okay so here's the thing. Claire mentioned your paychec