Charles’s POV

Empires don’t fall in explosions. They rot from the inside, cell by cell, until the walls collapse under their own weight And Xavier Black’s empire? I’d already found the infection.

The boardroom smelled of old cigars and older money. Mahogany walls gleamed under the dim light, portraits of long-dead men staring down like silent judges.

I liked it this way, quiet, intimate, the kind of room where sins were whispered instead of confessed.

Henry Aldridge sat across from me, ...