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
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