Silence returned to Mr. Aslan's office, but it was no longer the panic-laden silence of a few hours earlier, but a heavy, floating calm, like the snow that continued to accumulate on the other side of the windows. The fire had finally burned itself out, leaving only a reddish glow at the back of the fireplace that cast long shadows on the oak bookshelves.
I stared at my hands, which still trembled slightly on my knees. Talking about Sebastian, remembering the fiftieth floor of the Volkov Tower, and putting into words the pain I had kept to myself for months had been like reopening a wound I thought I had disinfected with distance. But distance, I knew now, was just a geographical illusion. His money and his obsession had crossed the Atlantic with the same ease with which I had hidden myse
