I remained on my knees in the snow long after the sound of my own screaming had died, swallowed by the vast, indifferent silence of the mountains. The cold seeped through my trousers, a deep, numbing ache that worked its way into my bones, but I didn’t feel it. The only sensation was the roaring void inside me where a universe had once been.
Eventually, the guards returned. Not to restrain me, but to stand at a respectful distance, their presence a silent, professional perimeter around a man who had become a public spectacle of grief. One of them spoke into his radio, his Swiss-German a soft, incomprehensible murmur. The cold had made my mind slow, syrupy. My empire, my influence, my name that could open any door in London or New York, meant nothing here. I was just a liability on the pri
