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“Earned?” Jesse’s laugh has a sharp, bitter edge to it. “Here we go, the 'Golden Son' speech. You’re loving this, aren’t you? You’re always itching for a reason to dig through my trash, to find a way to pull me down in front of Dad.”
“This isn’t about Dad, Jesse.” I plant my hands firmly on the desk and stand up, trying hard not to launch myself at him. “This is about a federal investigation into bribery and negligence that involves you. What happens when you lose your line of credit? When Dad can’t cover for you anymore because he doesn't have anything left either? Have you thought about that?”
“It’s entirely about Dad!” Jesse says and slams his glass down as he stalks toward me. “You hate that he actually loves me, Sebastian. You hate that I get to live my life while all Dad does is ride you into the ground. He doesn't want me turning into a cold, calculating machine like you. He let me be, and you’ve always hated me for it.”
“You think I want the life you live? To wander around aimlessly, killing myself slowly with drugs and whores, having my daddy bail me out like a fucking child? I actually like what I do, Jesse. I have goals. I have plans for this company. At least I don't think the world is one big playground where there’s always someone around to clean up my mess.”
“I didn’t do this!” Jesse shouts, his face flushing a deep red. “I didn’t leak that memo, and I didn’t bribe anyone at the DOJ. If there’s money in my accounts, it’s because those investments finally paid off. You’re on a witch hunt because you can’t stand that I’m free and you’re not.”
“A $50 million 'investment' that almost perfectly mirrors your debts?” I step into his space, forcing him to look up at me. Jesse has always been the shortest one of us, and I use it to my advantage. “The Feds don’t believe in coincidences, Jesse, and neither do I. You’re the vulnerability. They found your price, and they bought you. And you can’t even be man enough to admit it.”
So much for playing my cards close to the chest. I’m too angry. I feel like I have to vent my frustration on this man-child, who has never once taken responsibility for his mistakes.
Jesse’s eyes fill with sudden emotion, whether it's rage or fear, I can’t tell. “You were always such a prick, Sebastian. You think you’re so much better because you stay late, wear the right suits, and were firstborn. But you’re just as much a part of this rot as anyone. You just hide it better under that layer of responsibility.”
He tries to shove past me, but I grab his arm.
“Get the hell off of me, you fucking asshole!”
From experience, I know Jesse is about to haul off and slug me.
“Tell me what you know,” I snarl, digging my fingers hard into his bicep.
“I had nothing to do with this!” Jesse shouts. “Go ahead, keep digging. You’ll find out I’m innocent, then you have to figure out how to apologize to me. But don’t expect me to be there when you do.”
My brother yanks his arm from my grip and stalks out, slamming the door behind him.
I stand there, rigid in silence, breathing heavily. My brother has always been a liar and a fool. But is he telling the truth this time? If he honestly doesn't know where the money came from, then he’s not the mastermind. He’s just a distraction.
The $50 million could have been a gift to keep him quiet, or perhaps to frame him. But the payment to the DOJ? That’s coming from the heart of King Corp.
I collapse into my chair, exhausted and frustrated. I have to find the source before the DOJ finds me.
“Everything okay?” the Ghost asks when I call him back.
“We need to look at the Icarus money again. I want to know who authorized the transfer from the corporate treasury.”
The silence on the other end lasts a heartbeat too long.
“Um—” his voice comes through, sounding smaller than before. “The authorization didn’t come from Jesse.”
“Then who?”
“The digital signature—it’s encrypted with a master key.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “A master key?”
“Yeah, and someone’s still using it.”
Suddenly, the leak, the bribe, and Jesse’s bad investments don’t look like a scandal; they look like a haunting. A haunting that’s going to end with the death of the King Corporation and our legacy.
19
SEBASTIAN
The silence in the King Corporation headquarters feels like a physical weight, heavier than the glass and steel pressing down from the floors above. It’s Thursday afternoon, the threshold of the long Fourth of July weekend, and the building has been bled dry of its usual frantic energy.
While many are already on the Long Island Expressway or boarding flights to the Vineyard, I’m pinned to my desk.
