At the Andersons' estate, Julius sat alone in the living room, an open newspaper resting on his lap and a glass of whiskey clenched in his left hand.

Years had passed without a single word about his younger brother. And now the deadline their father had set was creeping closer with every breath Julius took. He ruled the clan, but only in name. The real heir was a ghost-a missing son chosen by a dead man.

A decision Julius would never forgive.

Why would his father entrust the future of the clan to someone who had vanished from the world, while the son who stood before the people was treated as nothing more than a placeholder?

Did his father hate him that much?

The doorbell shattered the silence.

Julius did not look up as the butler crossed the corridor. He heard the low murmur of voices, the door closing, then two sets of footsteps moving toward the livingroom. One was the butler. The other was heavier. Male.

Years of captivity had sharpened his instincts into weapons.

The living-room doors opened.

"Sir," the butler said with a bow, "Mr Timothy-the stool pigeon-is here."

Julius waved him away without lifting his eyes.

When the doors shut, he finally spoke.
"You have news."

Timothy dropped to his knees.
"My lord... we found nothing."

The word nothing hit like an insult.

"The adoption agency where Mrs Phidous worked was pressured. Bribed. Threatened. They refused to talk."

Julius slowly folded his newspaper and set it aside.

"Then you should have broken them."

"We tried. But the Boston Mafia intervened. They warned us to back off-or face retaliation. The agencies are under their protection."

Silence thickened the room.

Julius rose and walked to the window, his reflection staring back at him from the glass. With his drink still in hand.

"So Mrs Phidous' secrets are being guarded by criminals," he said coldly. "How poetic."

Timothy swallowed.
"We can't continue without starting a war."

Julius turned.

The glass in his hand flew across the room and shattered against the wall inches from Timothy's head.

"You do not tell me what I cannot do."

Timothy trembled.

"You are my eyes. My blade. And yet you let outsiders divulge to me what I can and can not touch." Julius stepped closer, his voice dropping.

"If the Mafia is protecting those people, then they know who my brother is. Where he is. And what he's become."

"I need that knowledge."

He crouched before Timothy, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"My mother is losing patience. And I will not lose what should have been mine."

"I must know whether my brother is strong enough to rule."

His lips curled into something sharp and dangerous.

"Because if he is not... I will take the throne myself."

Julius returned to his seat.
"Tell me what you've learned about Mrs Phidous's husband."

Timothy shifted on his knees, which were growing sore by the minute.

"He is a well-known and respected lawyer in Boston. There are rumours that he has several Mafia bosses in his pocket, but of course, they are only gossip."

Julius cut in.
"In our line of work, every piece of information is useful. No one becomes powerful by staying clean."

"The absence of evidence doesn't mean he is innocent."

Timothy nodded in agreement.

Julius continued, "What about their adopted child? Do you know anything about his background? His real parents? The agency he was adopted from?"

"The names of his biological parents could not be obtained. As for the agency, it's called Listening to Parents-a different agency from the one Mrs Phidous worked for," Timothy replied.

Julius massaged his temple.
"Then that brings us back to Mrs Phidous's workplace. Something tells me they hold the answers we're looking for."

"I want you to go back there and find someone willing to talk. Even though it's a Catholic adoption agency, I'm sure some of the women won't resist a man's touch."

He lifted his gaze to Timothy's.

"Find the weak link. Seduce them if you must."

"Just get me something."

***

Mrs Kate Anderson sat at her dresser, rubbing pomade into her skin when three sharp knocks sounded at her door.

She pulled the robe of her nightgown around herself and tied it before calling out, "Come in."

The butler entered and bowed.
"Ma'am, Mr Timothy-the stool pigeon-has arrived to see the lord of the estate."

Mrs Kate smiled. "Thank you for letting me know, Fred. You may leave. I will reward you later for your loyalty."

The butler bowed again and left.

Mrs Kate turned back to her dresser. She slid her hand beneath it and pressed a hidden button.

A framed picture on the wall shifted aside, revealing a concealed television screen. With a remote, she switched it on. The screen showed Julius and Timothy in the living room, deep in conversation. A hidden camera had been installed there-without her son's knowledge.

She listened intently.

Not a single word escaped her, especially Julius's declaration that he would claim the throne if his brother proved unfit to rule.

Her hand clenched into a fist.

"Not if I can help it," she murmured.