Damian's POV
We worked through the night.
Catherine at the kitchen table, talking. Reeves taking notes with the methodical thoroughness he brought to everything. Lena sitting across from Catherine with the folder open in front of her, cross-referencing dates and details against what she'd collected, the notes, the photographs, the fragments she'd been quietly assembling for months.
I moved between the kitchen and the sitting room, making calls.
Not many, this wasn't the moment for wide networks. This was the moment for precision. Three people I trusted with specific things. A lawyer who had handled certain matters for me over the years with the kind of discretion that never came cheap. A contact in the city's financial regulation authority whose cooperation I'd earned through a favour
