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We both pretend to be cordial. If Agent Mercer thinks Oliver Thorne has no idea what this is about, she has another thing coming.

Oliver is too sharp; he grew up in this world, just like I did. Beyond any covert dealings with my brother, he’s made several very public plays for King Corp. It would be stupid to underestimate him.

“So, Sebastian. Any ideas of what you’ll be doing after I take the King Corporation from you? Perhaps you’ll run away to that yacht of yours in the Caymans.”

“I’m not running, Oliver,” I say, as the server sets down my glass of whiskey. “I’m not going to run away from something I didn't do.”

As Oliver receives his Campari and soda, he gives the young server a wink. She responds with a smile that’s more professional than friendly, and leaves, sparing herself from Oliver’s advances.

“A noble sentiment.” Oliver’s smile is wry as he raises his bright crimson drink for a mocking salute. “Unfortunately, boards and stockholders don’t care about nobility. All they care about is making money and ensuring they don’t lose any of it so they can make more.”

“And that’s what you’re doing?”

“Ensuring King Logistics comes under my banner is the steal of a lifetime, Sebastian, and we both know it will bring the entire King Corporation tumbling down. You know you’d do the same thing in a heartbeat.”

That may have been true three weeks ago, however, things have changed. There’s only one thing I want now, but I’ve lost it.

“Is that why you blackmailed Jesse?” I ask, pointedly keeping my gaze from straying to Agent Mercer, knowing I’m doing the exact opposite of what she wants me to do. But this is my world, not hers.

“Jesse wanted to prove he was a big man,” Oliver replies, chuckling, circling the subject like a shark. “He wanted to show Daddy he could play with the titans. So, I gave him a seat at the table. I fed him what he wanted to hear. By the time I was done with him, your little brother had lost a lot of money, money he wasn't authorized to touch. He should be put away for the next forty years.”

“You must have enjoyed that.” I keep my voice calm, even though I really want to flip the table over and deck the guy.

Thorne gloats, leaning in. “I made him a deal that I wouldn’t go to the authorities if he gave me the information about Anchorstone. I planned to keep Jesse out of handcuffs.”

“He didn’t know it was your play for the King Corporation.”

“No, he did not,” Thorne says, delighted. “I wanted the dynasty. I wanted to gut it from the inside out and absorb its assets into Corinth Capital. And the rest? Well, your father and brother played right into our hands. All I had to do was sit back and wait for it to happen, just as I’d predicted.”

“And the memo about the DOJ payment?” I ask. “Who put that on the wire?”

Oliver smiles into his Campari. “Your brother told me Daddy was ‘handling it.’ It took my people a week to find out how. Leaking that memo was the best money Corinth ever spent.”

I have to hand it to him: it was a smart play. He manipulated my father and brother like puppets. My father, who has always thought of himself as the king of New York, smart and clever, was outwitted by Oliver fucking Thorne.

“I didn’t expect your father to throw you under the bus like he did, though. That’s low, even for Julian King. But it worked out well for me.” He takes a long sip of his drink, his expression one of pure, unadulterated ego. “And now, I have it all. The King Dynasty is dead. Tomorrow, I announce the emergency acquisition of King Logistics. You’ll be in a cell, and I will be the new king of this city, standing on the rubble of the King Corporation.”

I stare at him for a long moment. “You really think you're untouchable, don't you?”

“I don't think it, Sebastian. I know it.”

“How did you pull Jesse in? You wouldn’t have done it unless you already knew something was up.”

Oliver touches the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“You’ve won, Oliver.” I lean back in my chair, my hand loose around my glass. “Go ahead and gloat some more while you have me sitting here.”

He grins. “Oh, believe me, I’ll have plenty of time to gloat.”

I see Agent Mercer striding over out of the corner of my eye.

Oliver blinks up at her. “I’d like to order some food now,” he says.

“Oliver Thorne, you are under arrest for⁠—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts her off. “What is this? Some kind of joke?”

“We have your confession on a federal wire, Mr. Thorne,” Mercer replies, stepping forward and placing her hand under his elbow, guiding him out of his seat.