Josephine stood in tears clutching a battered wooden rocking horse covered in marker scribbles as Grandfather Robert shoved it toward her, laughing bitterly with Clara that the ruined toy was a perfect match for the little girl.

Bennett stared down at the encrypted satellite phone, his icy eyes narrowing in quiet calculation. He walked over to his massive mahogany desk and placed the evidence bag under the bright desk lamp. "Graves escaped?" Bennett asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Yes, sir," Marcus replied, his posture rigid. "He is a ghost. But abandoning a piece of secure communication hardware is highly uncharacteristic for a professional fixer. Our cyber division believes it was left intentionally." "A message," Bennett murmured, tracing the cracked screen through the plastic bag. "Silas didn't have the funds to hire a Tier-One mercenary team on a whim. He lied to Graves about his offshore accounts, or someone else bankrolled the hit." "If someone else funded the ambush, they were using Silas as a disposable proxy," Marcus noted. "Just like you used Clara." Bennett looked up, his jaw locked tight. The realization settled over the room like a heavy winter chill. Robert’s corporate empire had been wildly over-leveraged, built on massive, unsustainable debts. Bennett had assumed those debts were owed to standard venture capital firms and investment banks. "Marcus," Bennett commanded, his American accent sharp. "Pull the complete acquisition ledger for the Sterling hostile takeover. I want to know exactly who owned the mezzanine debt that we bought out." Before Marcus could leave the room, the satellite phone inside the plastic bag began to vibrate violently.