Dorian sat with his legs crossed, a gun resting loosely in his hand.
He had chosen a dark house far from his usual residences. He didn't want to go home. Not yet. He needed somewhere quiet enough to think, somewhere no one would know to look for him.
Only yesterday, he had been soaring.
BioQuant had announced what was supposed to be the greatest medical breakthrough of the decade. Its stock had climbed. The press had been on his side. Catherine was supposed to be dead, and the Preston family was supposed to be too shocked to fight back.
Now, in a single day, everything had collapsed.
Dorian stared at the gun in his hand.
Where had he gone wrong?
Had it been trusting that Catherine was dead? Was that the mistake that had allowed everything else to happen?
His jaw tightened.
He should have taken everything from her phone. Every piece of evidence. Every photograph, every message, every file. He had her phone. So how had she managed to preserve enough evidence to destroy him?
