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CHAPTER 23: WHAT WAS LEFT
I sat alone in my penthouse that Monday night, well past ten, the city lit up beyond the windows in the particular indifferent way it always was and pulled the photograph out of my jacket pocket for the first time since the night I'd packed it there.My mother's face. I still didn't have a name for her, not really, nothing beyond the word Ardent and the shape of a dynasty Harold Pruitt had spent twenty four years quietly protecting the secret of. She was young in the photograph, younger than I would have expected, dark haired, her expression frozen somewhere between fear and something fiercer, caught in the half second before whatever came next in that ravine.I wondered what her voice had sounded like. Whether she'd have been the kind of mother who sang, or worried, or laughed too loud at her own jokes. I wondered whether my father had been patient or sharp tempered, whether he'd have taught me to sail or fight or simply build things, the way I'd apparently built an empire without e
CHAPTER 22: ON CAMERA
Diane's povThe interview was scheduled for ten that Monday morning, in the glass conference room on Carter Group's top floor, chosen specifically because the skyline behind us photographed well and said, without anyone needing to state it, that this was still a company worth taking seriously.I sat beside Marcus. Lucas sat across from us, angled slightly toward the cameras the way he'd been coached to, though I suspected he'd have found that angle on instinct alone."We're rolling in thirty seconds," the producer said, adjusting a microphone clipped to my lapel."Remember," Marcus murmured, low enough that only I could hear it. "Warm. Grateful. Nothing about the company's numbers unless they ask directly.""They'll ask directly. You know they will.""Then we redirect. Gracefully. We're here to talk about Lucas, not quarterly performance.""You didn't used to worry this much before an interview.""I didn't used to have this much to worry about." He straightened his tie without looking
CHAPTER 21: THE PHOTOGRAPH
I was still standing in the driveway of Harold Pruitt's safehouse when Priya's phone buzzed in her hand, then Marcus's, then mine, all three within seconds of each other, the way alerts only ever synced when something had gone properly wrong."What is it," I said.Priya looked at her screen, then at me, her expression shifting into something careful. "You need to see this before you hear about it from someone else."She turned the phone toward me. A gossip site, the kind that lived off business scandal and celebrity misfortune in equal measure, headline stretched across a photograph I recognized instantly even though I'd never seen it before.Me. Suitcase in hand. Walking down the Carter estate driveway eleven days ago, gates closing automatically behind me.THE REAL HEIR RETURNS: Carter Family's "Placeholder" Son Quietly Ushered Out As Lucas Carter Comes Home"Where did this come from," I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to sound."Paparazzi had been camped outside the estate
CHAPTER 20: THE EMPTY HOUSE
The safehouse sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac forty minutes from Aether's headquarters, and by the time our car pulled up at eight fifteen that Sunday morning, barely an hour after Priya's coffee had gone cold on the boardroom table, two of Marcus Reyes's security team were already standing outside the open front door, radios crackling."Report," Marcus said, out of the car before it had fully stopped."No forced entry, sir. Alarm system disarmed from inside using the code we gave Mr. Pruitt himself. No struggle in any of the rooms we've checked." The security lead, a broad shouldered man named Castillo, gestured toward the open door. "Whoever left, they left calmly. Or he did, on his own.""When was the last check in performed," I asked."Two thirty this morning. Everything normal, sir. Next scheduled check was six. When my team arrived just after, the door was already unlocked and the house was empty.""Three and a half hours," Marcus said quietly. "That's a long window.""It's
CHAPTER 19: THE WAR ROOM
EthanI called the meeting for seven that morning, four hours after Harold Pruitt's safehouse door had finally closed behind him, and by the time I walked into Aether's boardroom, still wearing yesterday's clothes and a bruise darkening slowly along my jaw, Priya, Tomlin, and Marcus Reyes were already seated, waiting, coffee untouched in front of two of them."You look like you were in a fight," Priya said."I was."Tomlin set down his coffee. "Should I be concerned about liability exposure, or is this a personal matter.""Both, potentially." I took my seat at the head of the table, the city just beginning to wake up behind the glass wall at my back, early commuter traffic threading through streets that had no idea what had happened in a quiet house forty minutes outside them a few hours earlier. "Last night, a man named Harold Pruitt handed me a name connected to a twenty four year old estate liquidation. Richard Voss.""Voss." Tomlin frowned, setting his pen down. "That name's been
CHAPTER 18: BLACKOUT
The darkness dropped over the study so completely, just past twelve thirty by then, deep enough into the night that the street outside had gone silent, that for one full second I couldn't tell if my eyes were even open."Don't move," I said, low, my hand already finding Harold Pruitt's shoulder in the black to keep him from bolting toward whatever had made that sound in the hallway."That's not a fuse," he whispered, voice shaking. "I had the panel replaced two years ago. Nothing trips that whole system at once."Glass broke somewhere near the front of the house, sharp and deliberate, not the sound of an accident.I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit the one contact that mattered most in that moment."Marcus." My voice stayed level though my pulse hadn't. "We have a problem. Someone's inside the house.""I'm forty feet from the front door," Marcus said, already moving, I could hear it in his breathing. "I'm coming in.""Side entrance. Front's compromised.""Copy."I ended the call
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