CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

Sean flung another glass sculpture against the penthouse wall with a guttural cry. It exploded into glittering shards, littering the marble floor alongside the shattered remains of vases, frames and other debris forming a wreckage trail in his wake.

Chest heaving, he spun to face Tate.

His brother reclined calmly on a leather sofa, scrolling news feeds on a tablet.

“Feeling better?” Tate deadpanned without looking up.

“No I am fucking NOT!” Sean grabbed a modern art canvas off the wall and launched it Frisbee-style. It crashed upside down behind the sofa.

“In case you forgot, we just lost EVERYTHING! Our family, our empire - GONE!”

Tate finally raised his eyes. "You think I'm fine with that?" His voice held an odd detachment.

For once, the bruising on his face from whatever run-in he refused to explain wasn’t the most damaged thing about him.

Sean fisted hands in his hair, breathing hard. “I just can’t believe none of our connections warned us. That merger data was untraceable! How t
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