Warner was a creature built entirely of ego and image.

He could lie to my face and brush off my questions and run a second life in the shadows, but the one thing he feared above dying was his careful reputation — the perfect husband, the dutiful son, the self-made titan — shattering in front of an audience.

Tonight I hadn’t cracked the glass.

I’d taken a hammer to it.

Adelina lunged for the console to rip the cord from the wall.

A breath before she reached it, I pressed pause, freezing the screen on the wire transfer, that tidy line of theft holding steady in the light.