"No, but our father was. And Williams knows enough to make us look like we are." In the heavy silence, Thorne pulls out his phone. “But there’s still a chance we can get to him and cover our asses.”
He dials a number and puts the call on speaker. A pre-recorded message informs us that the caller’s number is no longer in service. “Give me Julius’s new number,” he tells Sebastian.
“I don’t have it,” he replies. “I let him go last year.”
Thorne holds his phone, ready to dial. “Then give me Mark’s?”
“He’s gone too.”
"Fine." Thorne's already scrolling for another contact. "What about Carmichael? The investigator Dad used—"
"Gone. They're all gone, Thorne." Sebastian stands, meeting his brother's increasingly furious gaze. "I let all of them go. Every single person who was part of Dad's network."
Thorne stares at his brother like he's never seen him before. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I made the right call—"
"The right call?" Thorne slams his phone on the table. "We're running a business, Sebastian! Not a fucking charity!"
"We're not running the mob either!" Sebastian shouts back.
"Sometimes it's the same thing!" Thorne's words ricochet off the dining room walls.
"Only when you think like Dad," Sebastian holds his ground, fury burning quiet in his eyes.
"You want to know the difference between Dad and me?" He rises from his chair. "I would have had the sense to keep our options open." Three steps bring him around the table. "But you? You fired everyone who could help us, and now we're backed into a corner with no way out."
"We have ways out that don't involve criminal fixers—"
“Name one." Thorne crosses his arms. "Williams is in federal custody. The DOJ's Environmental Crimes unit has him. Areyougoing to visit the jail and ask for a meeting…”
He looks past us, but he’s not seeing the foyers. I know that look. He is strategizing.
I stand. “Thorne—”
Thorne grabs his suit jacket that is hanging on his chair. "Then I'll take care of it."
I’m not sure I want the answer, but I ask, “How?”
He doesn't answer, but strides out of the dining room toward the foyer.
Sebastian gets up. “Thorne, wait—"
He's already crossing the foyer, but he stops and turns to face his brother. “No. You made your choice. You wanted to run this company your way, with your morals, your clean hands." Thorne's laugh is bitter. "Well, someone still has to do the dirty work. Might as well be me."
I follow him across the foyer, my heels clicking double-time against the marble to match his stride. He heads for the front entrance rather than the porte cochère. He’s taking the long way to the garage, like he needs to put as much physical distance between himself and this conversation as possible.
"What are you going to do?" I ask.
“To do whatever it takes to find out where we stand with Williams." He keeps walking, not looking back when I fall behind. "I still have a few contacts Sebastian didn't burn."
Picking up the pace, I grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “And then what?”
His expression smooths into that calm, controlled mask I've come to recognize as his most dangerous look. "Then we'll know exactly what he's planning to tell prosecutors. And we can plan accordingly."
"Thorne, touching Williams right now isn't damage control — it's a gift to the prosecution."
“Only if they find out.”
