The heavy oak door of the suite creaked slightly, admitting a sharp draft that seemed to freeze the static air. Marcus Thorne did not move. His eyes remained locked on Isabella’s trembling lower lip, the theatrical tear that tracked down her powdered cheek, and then down to his wife, Khloe, curled protectively on the cold marble floor.

The leather-bound ledger flipped open to a page dated six years ago—the exact period when Elena Thorne had faked her death in the Swiss Alps.

Inside weren't financial statements or corporate asset transfers. They were handwritten names, dates, and locations. A systematic log of every high-society figure, politician, and corporate executive in New York who had ever taken a bribe, accepted offshore kickbacks, or participated in corporate espionage under Elena’s shadow syndicate.

"It’s an insurance policy," Khloe murmured, running her index finger down a column of names that included several sitting federal judges and two members of the Thorne Board of Directors who had survived the initial purge. "Elena didn't just run a shadow empire. She kept receipts on every single person who thought they were using her."

Marcus stared at the page. His eyes locked onto a name near the bottom of the list: Theodore Vance.

Julian’s younger brother—who had supposedly died of a heart attack in Paris a decade ago.

"Julian lied," Marcus said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Or at least, he didn't tell us the whole truth."

Before Khloe could answer, the heavy double doors of the office swung open.

Julian Vance walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual immaculate charcoal suit. Instead, he wore a simple black trench coat, and in his right hand, he held a heavy, silenced Browning Hi-Power pistol pointed straight at the floor.

"I was wondering when you'd find the ledger," Julian said, his voice entirely devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for Khloe.

Marcus stood up slowly, stepping between Julian and his wife. "Put the gun down, Julian. Explain why your brother’s name is in Elena’s black book."

Julian stopped ten feet away. His silver-streaked hair was slightly messy, and his eyes held a profound, haunting exhaustion.

"Theodore didn't die of a heart attack, Marcus," Julian said quietly. "Elena had him murdered because he found out what she was doing to your father. And I spent the last ten years playing the loyal uncle, pretending to help her, just so I could get close enough to find the offshore kill-switch."