Sebastian's POV
The private flight back to New York felt like a metal coffin floating at 10,000 meters. The roar of the Gulfstream's engines was the only sound in the air, but in my head, only Gianna's bitter laughter and the echo of her last words before disappearing into the Istanbul storm resonated.
I sat in the plane's leather seat, an untouched glass of whiskey on the table, my right hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage already turning red from the wound I'd smashed on the monitor. I didn't care about the pain. I didn't care about anything.
"Sir..." Marcus approached slowly from the communications booth, cautiously holding a tablet. "The financial analysts just reported a transaction in the trust account. Three hours ago, the card registered in Gianna's name was used at Charles de G
