"Who the hell is Adrian?" Julian's voice cuts through the room. He is still holding the photograph, but his fingers are too tight around the edges. I take it back from him and look again at the man stepping off the private jet. Mid-thirties. Tall. Dark hair. The same eyes Victor sees in every mirror. My stomach drops quietly. This is not just some cousin from nowhere. This is someone they have been expecting for a long time.
I set the photograph on the desk and turn back to the ledger. The black tabs feel heavier now. Every page I touch seems to move the ground under my feet a little more. Julian steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him, but he does not speak. He is waiting for me to find the next blow before he lets himself react to the last one.
The next marke
