a P

Beaumont in a quiet, upscale café downtown. He was in his late sixties, with sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. As t

," he said, stirring his es

at. "I'm leaving the company, and

not surprised. I am, however, deeply disappointed. Ga

re for pity or praise. "I wanted to thank you, Seb

fly. He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "This is going to get

handl

wolf can be overwhelmed by a pack of hyenas. They have the best legal team money ca

e best lawyer in the country-and I

ve a name or a number. Just a moniker, "Mr. Sun,"

d he doesn't lose,

into my pocket, a si

't a legal notice or a threatening phone call.

published photos from a charity gala held the previous night. The h

beaming as she embraced Catherine Meadows on the red carpet. Gav

icle. A reporter had asked

ith feigned sympathy. "Kyla is a capable young woman, but sometimes, destin

clear. I was the pla

h of fresh air. She is like sunshine, bringing new life

or our entire world to see.

ol. Anonymous accounts, likely pa

ue finally gets

extort him for over

one of us. G

ntly omitting the fact that it was tied to a legal equ

on. Ruin my reputation so thoroughly that

ang. It wa

sume," he said, his v

seen

bury you in filth until you suffocate. Ar

f it felt heavier now. I had faced down rival rogues in dark alleys and corporate sharks in boardroom

r PR machine, their deep-seated influence. Figh

urmured the name

and typed in the ID. A simple, secure chat window o

years, I had relied on no one but myself. Aski

t weakness. It

message. I needed a lawyer. A ghost. A weapon. S

the phone, as if he could read my mind. "Trust m