Mag-log inLiam's pov
"I thought she would've told you," Jackson said, his voice low enough for just the two of us. "That’s not a small number." "It’s not," I murmured, still staring at Avery as she took another sip of champagne. Her polished laughter rang sharp through the air. My fingers curled around Jackson's suit sleeve unconsciously. Thirty percent of her company. That was a damn empire. She was merging her business into ours before we’d even merged lives. Before we’d even kissed properly. Before we’d even held a proper conversation about the future. What future? I wasn’t even sure if I wanted a tomorrow that looked like this. Dad was glowing. He clapped me on the back when Avery made her way down the steps. "You landed gold, son," he whispered. "This is what legacy looks like. This is how empires are built." Legacy? Empire? I felt like a brick in a wall I didn’t choose to be part of. "Smile," Jackson whispered beside me. "You’re being watched." I forced my lips to resemble something that might have looked like a smile. Avery reached my side and tucked her arm into mine. "Surprised?" she asked softly. I nodded. "You didn’t have to do that." She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “ Of course I did, Liam. That’s what power couples do." "Power couples," I echoed under my breath, the phrase tasting like ash in my mouth. Avery pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were glinting with excitement, and a subtle sense of pride. "I meant what I said," she continued, her voice quiet now, just for me. "About the shares. About this.....us." I glanced at her, studying her calm expression. She wasn’t bluffing. Not like my father, who spun words like silk around his motives. Avery seemed to be the kind who meant what she said. Which made this much worse. "I know you didn’t choose me," she said after a beat, her tone softening. "I know this isn’t the story you dreamed about when you were a kid, Liam. But I like you." I froze. "I like you," she repeated. "And I don’t just mean in the ‘this will benefit my business’ way. I mean in the way that keeps me awake at night wondering if I’m doing too much too fast. Wondering if I’ll ever mean to you what I already feel for you." I didn’t speak. I couldn't. Jackson was still beside me. Shaking his head lightly at his sister, like he had envisioned this. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. "I know I shouldn’t be confessing this now," Avery continued with a small breathy laugh. "Especially when the party’s still going on, and we’ve barely said two full sentences to each other since the announcement. But I needed you to know. I’m not doing just this for my father or for some deal. I’m doing this because.....I want a chance. With you." A camera clicked somewhere, snapping a picture of us standing together. Avery’s smile widened effortlessly, trained for the lens. But mine didn’t. Because my heart wasn’t in it. And it hadn’t been......ever. ~ The room hushed. Just enough for the voice on the mic to cut through. "And now," the host announced cheerfully, "the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The exchange of rings." Applause erupted. My stomach churned. Avery's fingers tightened around my arm, guiding us towards the small podium where the velvet box waited. I didn't even know what the rings looked like, our father's had picked out everything. Every part of this night had been orchestrated to perfection, except my feelings. I could see Jackson in the back of the crowd, sipping on whiskey, gripping the cup painfully tight. Avery turned to me, beaming widely. She lifted the ring first. It was platinum, sharply-cut. Worth more than most people made in three years. Her hands didn’t shake as she slid it onto my finger. "For partnership," she whispered. I stared down at it. Then it was my turn. I opened the other box. Her ring glinted under the lights, custom-cut with a sapphire crest. It slid easily onto her hand, like it had always belonged there. She held my hand a moment longer than necessary. Then came the kiss. Avery leaned in. Her lips brushed mine in a soft manner. But I felt repulsed. It didn’t burn. It didn’t shake me. It didn’t feel like him. Jackson’s kiss had ruined me. One night. One taste of something I wasn’t supposed to want. It had been messy, raw, and had made my nerves come alive. It had gripped my chest like a vice and left my mind blank. But this? This was simply curated. Perfectly timed for the cameras. When she pulled back, the crowd clapped again. Avery beamed, her arms looping around my waist. "We look good together," she whispered. I didn’t answer. Because somewhere beyond the applause, beyond the ring cutting on my finger, beyond the woman holding me like she was already mine, I saw Jackson turn away. And this time, I felt my chest ache. ~ After the rings were exchanged and the empty kiss, father took the stage, beaming with smiles as he gave the appreciative speech. The spotlight glinted off his cufflinks as he lifted a champagne flute and started a speech full of legacy, power, and gratitude. Words like vision, empire, merger were directed to the audience. I didn’t hear the rest. I slipped away while the crowd’s attention was pinned to his monologue, ducking past a waiter and weaving through the side hallway. I found him on the bench behind the garden hedges. Jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. Jackson was sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair like he was trying to rip the thoughts out of his skull. "She doesn't deserve this," he hissed under his breath, not even looking up. "Avery deserves to be happy with a good guy. Not someone who isn't even interested in women." "Lower your voice." I whispered, looking around. He shot me a look and went back to tugging on his hair. "This is crazy Liam, because..." His gaze zeroed in on mine. "I want to take you away from my sister."Third person's POV The prison visiting room smelled like industrial cleaning solution and decades of bad decisions.Liam Sinclair sat across from his father at 7:15 PM. The table between them was bolted to the floor. The guard by the door was watching them with the particular attention reserved for inmates whose charges involved federal conspiracy and attempted murder.Astor Sinclair looked smaller than Liam remembered. Not diminished. His father would never be diminished. But compressed somehow. Like the walls of the cell were already reshaping him into something that fit their dimensions."You came," Astor said. His voice was neutral. Neither pleased nor surprised."I need information," Liam said flatly. "You're the only person who might have it."Astor's mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile. "Straight to business. I taught you that.""You taught me a lot of things." Liam's tone didn't change. "Most of them wrong."The guard shifted position slightly. Astor ignored him."Wha
Third person's POV The photograph arrived on Liam's phone at 4:47 PM.He looked at it for seven seconds without speaking.Jackson was across the room, standing at the window with his back to the light. He'd been there since they'd returned from the briefing, watching the street below without comment. The silence between them had stopped being uncomfortable somewhere around the second hour."Jackson," Liam said.Jackson turned. Something in Liam's voice made him cross the room quickly.Liam held out the phone.Jackson took it. Looked at the screen. His expression didn't change for three full seconds.Then it did."That's—" Jackson stopped. Started again. "That's not possible.""Sometimes somethings are impossible and sometimes nothing is impossible. So here in this situation, I'm so certain that it is true. Janet recovered it from a corrupted file," Liam said quietly. "Legacy corporate records from 2003. The only Marcus Jefferson that connects to the addresses we've been tracking."Ja
Third Person's POVThe West Ark contract had a face.Two faces, precisely — Mateo Reyes and Elena Reyes, brother and sister, the visible architecture of a deal that had moved enough money to fund a small government and had done so through a structure elegant enough that three separate regulatory bodies had looked at it on three separate occasions and found nothing worth pursuing. Carlos Reyes, a name that rarely comes out among others of their family. Carlos always gets the low rating because he always hid his hardness behind Mateo and Elena, respectively. The Reyes family was old money in the specific Mexican sense — not narco money, or not exclusively, but the kind of generational wealth that had survived long enough to develop legitimacy the way sediment develops into stone, layer by layer, until the original material was no longer the point.Mateo had been the operational face. He had attended the meetings, signed the documents, appeared in the photographs that existed in the plac
Third Person's POVThe phone rang at 7:14 in the morning, which was how Morgana knew it was Henri.Henri Voss had three rules about communication that he had maintained without deviation for as long as she had known him. He never used the same line twice for sensitive information. He never called after nine in the evening, because evenings were for the kind of thinking that required no interruption. And he never called at a civilized hour when he had found something that mattered, because finding things that mattered had a way of making sleep irrelevant.She was already awake. She had been awake since four, which was not unusual. Sleep had been a negotiation since the year her son died, something she approached carefully and lost regularly, and she had long since made peace with the hours between four and seven as her own — a stretch of time that belonged to no one and therefore belonged entirely to her.She answered on the second ring."You found something," she said. Not a question.
Third Person's POVThe tie was wrong.Jackson stood in front of the mirror in the hotel bathroom and adjusted it for the fourth time, and it was still wrong, and he understood with a clarity that it had nothing to do with neckwear that the tie was not the problem. The tie was just the thing his hands were doing while his mind worked on something it could not yet put into language."You are going to be late," Liam said from the doorway."I know.""The board has confirmed the press briefing for eleven. Emily has the statement ready to read if you do not want to speak directly. But we both know you are going to speak directly.""I know that too." Jackson looked at his own reflection with the detached assessment of someone checking that the external version was holding together regardless of the internal situation. Suit. Tie that was still slightly wrong. Face that had the controlled neutrality he had been practicing since he was old enough to understand that Maddox men did not show thing
The Hunter and the HuntedThird Person's POVThe parking garage on Delancey Street had forty-three surveillance cameras.Danny Finn had counted them over three days of reconnaissance, mapping blind spots, identifying the fourteen cameras that were either broken, poorly angled, or pointed at sections of wall that had not changed since the garage was built in 1987. He had planned his route through the structure with the precision of a man who had spent nine years learning that the difference between finding someone and being found was exactly the kind of patience that grief, if it did not destroy you, eventually taught.He had been careful.He had been thorough.He had been wrong.---Three days earlier, Danny had picked up Dollar Fabs's trail through a contact in the chemical distribution network — a man who imported specialty solvents and knew every buyer in the region with the kind of granular memory that only survived through genuine fear of being on the wrong side of an inventory d
THIRD PERSON'S POV The room had fallen into a tense quiet after Jackson’s bold declaration. The air between them was thick, almost too heavy to breathe, as though every unspoken question had been bottled up and dropped into their laps at once.Liam’s eyes, red and raw from sleepless nights, fixed
Third Person's POVThe morning light filtered through the curtains of Avery's bedroom like unwelcome truth seeping through carefully constructed lies. She stood at the tall window, her reflection ghostlike in the glass, thinking about the secret that could destroy both the Sinclair and Maddox fami
Third person's POV The room was silent after Janet walked out. The faint echo of her heels clicking down the hallway seemed to linger long after she had vanished, leaving only the two men in the quiet room. The curtains swayed lightly from the evening breeze that crept in through a poorly shut w
Third person's POV "Daddy, please don't make this into something bigger than it needs to be," Avery pleaded as Mr. Maddox sat frozen behind the steering wheel, his mind processing the shocking revelations and trying to reconcile his moral beliefs with his daughter's apparent behavior.One thing h







