Arthur had taken that philosophy and monetized it. He was now a senior partner at a massive, ruthless law firm in the city that specialized in hostile corporate dismantling and aggressive litigation. He destroyed empires for a living.
He answered on the second ring.
“Evy?” Arthur’s voice was thick with sleep. “It’s five in the morning. What’s wrong?”
“It’s time, Arthur,” I said, my voice so cold and level it frightened even me.
“Time for what?”
“Maya is bleeding in my kitchen,” I stated, delivering the facts with brutal efficiency. “Celeste Vanguard assaulted her. Marcus watched and did nothing. She pushed her down a flight of stairs and kicked her in the stomach. Maya is eight weeks pregnant.”
I heard a sharp, sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line. The rustle of bedsheets. The sleepy, older brother vanished instantly; the apex predator woke up.
