't flinc

tween tech CEOs and their 22-year-old trophy fiancées, and once watched a hedge fund ma

ed her at

plana

ssis

through a bodyguard: "The host

eel and menace. Perched like a predator above the cliffs, the villa reflected the orange sky

alked

oard. No

t. The room

st a slow ticking from the an

of it all. Not behind a

cou

efo

ng. Tall. Weathered. Mid-sixties, maybe. Sharp eyes, silver hair, the kind of face you didn't look

ady won a game you hadn't realized you were pl

ised a

told that

huck

any planners appli

ume a

ndr

, stamina, and the ability

the top

lie," s

ted hi

at passed. His voice dropped a note lower. "Y

ctor smil

ai

e smoke. She said nothing. H

me gu

s pol

tan

anger to make

he didn'

smile v

is not you

e," Ava sa

e they work for him. And now I'm getting anonymous

or s

Not thre

.. fi

aid calmly. "You'r

's a

he par

the dr

e camer

nd that gate is n

the chi

n the

ight of h

she asked. Victor stepped p

ling. Victor had barely said anything. But what he didn't say screamed louder than a

on her phone. Stop looking for my name. Start looking for his. She opened a new search. Victor Leclair

. No en

. No ch

e and invention. A man with no records. No fi

er: "Don't t

people without giv

at it, hear

ge came in, s

invite you to