FOR days, Oswald had been absent from his empire. His companies ran without him, his board of directors whispered, and his assistants sent countless unanswered calls and emails. Even his family, his mother, his father, Vincenzo, including Queen, had all been ignored.

The only people he spoke to were Nathan and Orlanda. Nothing else mattered.

Tonight, he sat alone in the grand living room of his mansion, the dim golden lights casting eerie shadows across the walls. A bottle of whiskey sat beside him, half-empty. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his jaw tight, his mind drowning in relentless thoughts.

The contract. His mother's manipulations. Queen. Carlson. His...