SILAS

Three months had passed since my father's funeral.

Long enough for the flowers to disappear from the mansion, for the condolences to stop arriving, and for people to return to talking about Viktor Blackwood as though his death were another piece of business history.

It still didn't feel that simple to me.

I had spent most of those months cleaning up what he'd left behind.

Blackwood Holdings was mine now. That part had never been in question, and unlike the rest of my father's world, it was something I actually wanted. It was legitimate, familiar, and more than enough.

The network was different.

I'd never wanted the shipments, the...