Sebastian reappeared from the kitchen with a refill and a dry look. “I’m a viscount-slash-bastard prince. You’re a tech bro with a revenge spreadsheet. Since when are we most people?”
Ethan caught the fresh mug and smirked. “Fair point.”
Sebastian dropped back into the armchair, looking impossibly polished for someone plotting a political assassination—metaphoricallyspeaking. Probably.
“You didn’t come here to wallow,” Sebastian said, kicking his feet up onto the ottoman. “You came here to commit crimes.”
“Correction, no actual crimes are being committed. I’m merely providing research services. Possibly billable.”
“Right,” Sebastian said dryly. “Is this where I offer you hazard pay?”
“You can’t afford me,” Ethan said, opening the laptop with a flourish. “But I’ll settle for a vague sense of purpose and avoiding the tabloids.”
He pulled up a screen crowded with tabs, charts, and enough encrypted files to make a lesser man sweat.
Sebastian leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “What am I looking at?”
“Latest recon,” Ethan said, swiping through windows. “More shell companies. Questionable real estate transactions. Offshore accounts with very creative names.”
“Creative how?”
“Creative like ‘Sunshine Trust’ and ‘Happy Future Holdings.’” Ethan snorted. “Because nothing says ‘innocent’ like laundering millions through a company that sounds like a discount daycare.”
Sebastian rubbed his jaw, half amused, half murderous. “And this is just what you found in a week?”
Ethan grinned. “Yes, I wasn’t even trying that hard.”
Sebastian shook his head, a low whistle escaping. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You’re on the list already,” Ethan said cheerfully. “But lower down. Somewhere between my sixth-grade math teacher and the guy who keyed my car.”
“Touching.”
Ethan tapped a folder labeledHawthorne Assets (a.k.a. Satan’s Retirement Plan).
“Here’s where it gets fun,” he said. “Hawthorne’s been quietly acquiring property outside Caledonia. Vineyards, hotels, tech start-ups. Nothing under his real name, of course. But the patterns are there if you knowwhere to look.”
“And you know where to look,” Sebastian said.
“I’m vindictive and good with computers,” Ethan said modestly. “It’s a powerful combo. Anyway, I also found some interesting financial records linked to a development project in Canning Street.”
Sebastian’s hand stilled midair. “Canning Street?”
Ethan gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah. You know it?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunately.” He sighed. “Charles got me to sign off on some investments back when I was too naive to realize what was actually happening.”
Ethan closed the laptop, sitting up straighter. “Well, it looks like Hawthorne’s been using that project to funnel campaign funds and bribes. But yeah, bad news, your name is technically on some of the paperwork.”
Sebastian’s mouth twisted. “Of course it is.”
“It’s buried. Deep,” Ethan added. “No one would find it unless they were actively looking. But if this blows up… it might not just hit him.”
Sebastian leaned back, staring at nothing. “Yeah, I thought that might be the case.”
A pause. Real and sharp.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Ethan asked. “Because it’s starting to look less like a takedown and more like a controlled demolition—with you wired into the foundation.”