The legal destruction of Julian Sterling took exactly forty-eight hours to finalize.

By Tuesday morning, my attorneys had frozen his personal bank accounts, citing the commingling of embezzled corporate funds. By Wednesday afternoon, the bank had foreclosed on the penthouse, and the leased luxury

The restaurant Silas chose was an exclusive, subterranean speakeasy in Chelsea, hidden behind an unmarked door. Inside, it was a cavern of dark wood, low amber lighting, and leather booths that offered absolute privacy.

We sat across from each other in a secluded corner, a bottle of vintage Bordea

*Six months later.*

The view from the corner office on the top floor of the skyscraper was breathtaking. Manhattan stretched out below, a grid of steel and glass glittering in the morning sun.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored white blazer. I checked the r