Elena didn't sleep. She sat up half the night in the estate's east wing while Alexander and Gavin worked downstairs, tracing whatever thread they could find of the people Leo owed money to, and by morning she still hadn't decided whether she was angrier at her brother or at the man she was supposed to trust.
She found Alexander in the study at six, hollow-eyed, a wall of printouts already forming behind him — wire transfers, shell routing numbers, a spreadsheet Gavin had built overnight cross-referencing Leo's known contacts against known bad actors in Alexander's orbit.
"You should have told me," she said, before he could say good morning.
"I know." He didn't try to defend it this time, which surprised her more than an excuse would have. "I told myself I was protecting you. The longer
