XAVIER’s POV

Trust wasn’t ink on paper.

It was a currency traded, hoarded, spent and someone inside my own firm was selling it to the highest bidder.

The conference room was empty except for me, a pot of stale coffee, and the glow of my laptop.

Numbers filled the screen columns of wire transfers, offshore accounts, shell firms so tangled they looked like spiderwebs. I had seen enough of these games to know one thing for certain.

Power doesn’t announce itself when it comes for you.

It ...