Sebastian sat in what remained of his office. The good furniture was still there, the view was still there, the shell of the thing remained even as the substance of it had been quietly, methodically removed, and he looked at the news on his phone.
Leo had been his last real line of funding; the twenty billion had not moved before the arrest. He thought about Damian. About the door closing. Enjoy your sinking ship.
He thought about Amira on the phone. About the laugh.
He thought about the hospital. About the nursery glass. About Divina Creed said in a room while Julian Vale held Amara's hand and said nothing.
He looked at his phone. At the conviction.
At the life sentence typed in plain text beneath a headline that contained Leo's name and the word guilty, and nothing in between them that offered any comfort.
His last hope. He pressed the phone face down on the desk.
