LOGINThird person's POV Barrister Sullivan sat in his office at Chamber and Associates, surrounded by banker's boxes full of legal documents, financial records, and the kind of paper trail that took weeks to sort through and understand.He had been practicing law for more than twenty-five years, and had put more criminals behind bars than he could count. Mob bosses. Corrupt politicians. White collar criminals who thought they were too smart to get caught.And now, Astor Sinclair.Sullivan leaned back in his leather chair and stared at the document in his hand. A will. Dated fifteen years ago. The month before Elizabeth Catherine Sinclair died.Her legal name before marriage had been Catherine Elizabeth Harlow. She'd married Astor young, barely twenty-two, starry-eyed and believing in love and futures that didn't include betrayal. She'd had one son. Liam. The marriage had fallen apart after twelve years, ending in a bitter divorce that had left Elizabeth with some assets but not nearly wha
Third person's POV Avery's face went red. Not the pretty kind of red that made women look delicate and feminine. The angry kind. The kind that said she was two seconds away from throwing something."I made a mistake," she said, her voice rising. "A huge, terrible mistake. And I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life. But I'm still his sister. And I still love him. So hate me all you want, but I'm staying."Janet opened her mouth to respond, probably with something cutting and deserved, but Avery wasn't finished."And mind you, I'm not talking to you." She pointed at Janet like she was a particularly annoying insect. "I'm talking to Liam. You might not want to eat. But I want him to eat. Because he is not going to die of hunger while sitting here watching Jackson."Liam didn't say anything. Just kept holding Jackson's hand, his thumb tracing circles on Jackson's palm. The same motion over and over. A rhythm that kept him grounded. Kept him from thinking too hard about how still
Third person's POV The police station smelled like burnt coffee and broken promises. Officer Mackenzie sat at his desk with three empty styrofoam cups lined up like soldiers and a headache that felt like someone was drilling into his skull with a jackhammer.He'd been awake for twenty-six hours straight.His eyes burned. His back ached from sitting in the same goddamn chair for too long. His wife had called four times asking when he was coming home, and he'd stopped answering after the second call because he didn't have an answer to give her.Not when they were this close.Vincent Caruso. Fifty-eight years old. Former security guard. Current piece of shit who'd tried to kill Jackson Maddox and had succeeded in killing Catherine Harlow, known as Elizabeth Catherine Sinclair, fifteen years ago.They had his face. They had his name. They had his address in Brooklyn, a crappy apartment building in a neighborhood where nobody asked questions and everyone minded their own business.What th
Third person's POV Astor Sinclair sat behind his desk like a king on a throne, fingers steepled beneath his chin, staring at the cityscape beyond his floor to ceiling windows. The view was spectacular. Forty-two floors up, the city spread out below him like a kingdom he'd built with his own two hands and a willingness to do whatever it took to stay on top.The abstract art on the walls that cost more than most people made in a year. Everything was designed to intimidate, to remind anyone who walked through that door that Astor Sinclair was not a man to be trifled with.His personal assistant, a nervous young man, knocked softly on the door before entering."Mr. Sinclair? I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor."Astor didn't turn around. Just kept staring at the city below. "I don't have any appointments scheduled for this afternoon.""No, sir. But it's Barrister Lincoln. He says it's urgent."Now Astor turned. Lincoln was his lawyer. Had been for fifteen years. The man didn't
Third person's POV Liam knew one thing for certain, one truth that he held onto like a lifeline in the middle of a hurricane. Jackson was a fighter. Always had been. From the moment they'd met, Liam had recognized that quality in him. That stubborn refusal to stay down, to give up, to let anyone or anything defeat him.Jackson had survived a childhood with Richard Maddox as a father. Had built a successful career despite the odds stacked against him. Had stood up to his sister, to public humiliation, to having his most private moments broadcast across the internet.He would survive this too.He had to.Because Liam couldn't imagine a world where Jackson didn't exist. Couldn't picture his life without Jackson's sarcastic comments and terrible jokes and the way he looked at Liam like he was the only person in the room that mattered.So yeah. Jackson was going to live. There was no other option.The ICU doors swung open with a soft whoosh, and Liam stepped through with Janet right besid
Third person's POV The ICU was cold. Not just temperature cold, though the air conditioning was cranked up high enough to make goosebumps rise on exposed skin. It was the kind of cold that came from being surrounded by death and machines and the desperate hope that modern medicine could cheat the reaper one more time.Richard Maddox stood beside his son's hospital bed, hands shoved deep in his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them. Jackson looked small in the bed, which was wrong because Jackson had never been small. He'd always been larger than life, confident and strong and infuriatingly stubborn.But now he was pale. Too pale. Tubes ran from his arms, his chest, his nose. Machines beeped steadily, monitoring vital signs that Richard didn't fully understand but knew were important. Jackson's face was bruised, swollen on one side where he'd hit the pavement."You stubborn idiot," Richard muttered, his voice rough. "I warned you. Told you this gay stuff would bring


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