He chokes. Fingers claw at my wrist. Fear, real fear, maybe the first honest thing he has felt in this room.
"You can't—diplomatic immunity—"
"Wrong answer."
Immunity cannot save you from what I am.
My hand tightens.
My fist connects with his nose. Cartilage crunches. The sound is wet and immediate.
Adrian's scream tears through the room, high, undignified, the first honest sound he has made since walking through his door. Blood sprays across the desk. Arterial pattern, bright against dark wood.
—Paper stars—hundreds of them. Yuki holding up a yellow one. "They're for luck, Cole-san."
I blink. Shake it off.
Adrian sags against the desk, one hand pressed to his face, blood streaming between his fingers.
"You're making a catastrophic mistake—my father will—"
My fist drives into his face again. His head snaps back. More blood. He chokes on it.
He swings. Wild, desperate. His knuckles catch my jaw.
Good. At least he is trying.
Copper floods my mouth. I smile.
Adrian's eyes widen at whatever he sees in my face.
I catch his wrist mid-swing. Twist. The snap echoes sharp and clean through the penthouse.
Adrian screams again. No dignity left now. He crumples, cradling his broken wrist against his chest, whole body folding inward around the pain.
—The car. I checked it myself that morning. Every inch, every panel, every hinge—
I drag him up by his collar. His blood soaks into my shirt.
—But someone on the inside. Someone I trusted. The real danger was already there—
"I trusted someone once," I tell him. My voice comes from somewhere distant. "Missed the signs."
Adrian whimpers. He does not understand what I am saying. Does not need to.
"Focused on external threats while the real danger was already inside."
My fist finds his ribs. Something gives. The wet crack fills the space between us.
He gasps. Tries to fold again. I do not let him.
"Francesca—" His breath comes ragged, desperate. "The courts—I have documentation—legal standing—"
Her name, my daughter's name, does not belong in his mouth.
—Yuki was fourteen. She showed me her jar of stars that morning. "Five hundred and twelve," she said. "I counted."
I go completely still. Adrian takes this as an opportunity. Foolish.