Sebastian Hawthorne's elegant study had never felt so suffocating. Sweat trickled down my spine as I watched him frantically pacing the room, his expensive shoes wearing a path in the Persian rug. The news of Harrison Ashworth's arrival had turned his face ashen.
"Julian," Sebastian hissed at me, grabbing my shoulder with trembling fingers. "Listen carefully. No matter what he says, deny everything. We don't know anything about the kidnapping. Do you understand me?"
I nodded, but couldn't help feeling my father was overreacting. "Father, relax. We're the Hawthornes. This is our city."
Before he could respond, the double doors swung open.
The man who entered wasn't particularly tall or physically imposing, but the energy radiating from him made the air feel heavy. Harrison Ashworth moved with the casual confidence of someone who had never needed to raise his voice to be obeyed. His silver-streaked hair and impeccable suit spoke of old money and older power.
