The men from Kronos arrived at ten o'clock sharp. They moved with the quiet, predatory grace of sharks gliding into a feeding frenzy, their tailored suits like sleek grey skin. They carried expensive leather briefcases that held not just papers, but the legal architecture of my family’s ruin. I watched them step into the Vance Tower boardroom, a room I had designed, a room where my portrait should have hung, and felt a coldness that had nothing to do with being dead.
Alistair was at the head of the table, imperious and restored. The confrontation with Caroline had been a brief c***k in his armor; now it was welded shut, stronger and more impenetrable than before. Liam sat at his right hand, looking every inch the successor. He wore a new suit, a shade of navy so dark it was almost black,
