Page 13 of Born in Fire

The conference room comes into view through glass walls—Caleb at the head of the table, surrounded by lawyers and executives. His expression when he spots me is a mix of relief and irritation.

“Mr. Craven,” says Maxwell Cartwright, one of the senior partners at our company’s law firm. “We were just discussing the details of the annexures.”

Oh, joy. The fucking annexures.

“Excellent timing,” I say smoothly, sliding into the empty chair beside Caleb. I aim a smile at the others at the table in greeting as I sit. Aside from my brother, Sloane, and the legal team, there’s also a small contingent of clan members. I nod at Luke Kenan and Lydia James, who smile back.

Once seated, I shuffle through the paperwork Sloane handed me, trying to focus on numbers and acquisitions instead of the lingering image of Juno’s smile. Lawyers drone on about financial projections and liability clauses while Caleb nods along, asking pointed questions that show he’s actually read every single page of this mind-numbing documentation.

“If we turn to page seventy-three,” Maxwell says, “you’ll see the projected revenue streams post-acquisition.”

I flip to the page, scanning figures that normally would interest me. Today, they blur together.

“Hold on.” Lydia’s voice cuts through the monotony. She’s frowning at something in her copy of the annexures. “What exactly is this ‘Heritage Asset Investments’ listed here?”

The room quiets. Lydia James isn’t one to interrupt without reason.

“It’s a philanthropic division,” I say automatically, recalling the department during our initial assessment. “It wasn’t included in the initial holdings, but when I saw the value of the assets, I made inclusion non-negotiable.” I glance down at the balance sheet. “Come to think of it, it was the only thing they put up a fight over.”

“A fight,” says Caleb. “You said it went off without a hitch.”

“Itdidgo off without a hitch,” I tell him. “I’m not going to waste your time by coming to you every time a takeover hits a hurdle. I just dealt with it.”

“Dealt with it.” He shakes his head. “What I’d like to know is how you missed it and didn’t tell me about it.”

“Because they buried it.” I keep my tone neutral because I know how my brother can be when he gets like this. “Heritage Assets isn’t listed directly under NyxCorp. It’s owned by Global Administrative Services LLC, which is owned by the Meridian Holdings Group, which is owned by Administrative Capital Partners, andthat’sowned by NyxCorp. We had to dig through four layers of bureaucratic bullshit to find the connection.”

“What about the money trail?” he says, clearly refusing to let this go. “That should have been a giveaway, surely?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “They spread the financial records across different jurisdictions. One holding company is registered in Delaware, another in the Cayman Islands, another in Luxembourg. It was a nightmare to trace.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably looking for something else to give me shit about. Finally, his brows pull together. “But what would make them stick on that point, I wonder?”

“No idea. I don’t think they expected us to find it, but I doubt they realized how sharp our team is.” I remember the meeting; the CEO’s head had looked set to explode. “It’s not like it’s the kind of thing anyone would deliberately look for. Activities are focused on cultural preservation or something equally boring.”

“Boring?” Lydia arches an eyebrow. “I find it rather fascinating that a tech company maintains a division dedicated to acquiring historical properties.”

She slides her tablet across to me, highlighting a spreadsheet of acquisitions.

“Look at these purchases,” she continues. “This one—” she points to a line item, “is a small private museum in Prague.I remember when it changed hands last year. And this—an archaeological research facility near Göbekli Tepe in Turkey.”

I straighten in my chair, interest piqued. “That’s… unusual.”

“Indeed.” Lydia scrolls down. “But what truly caught my attention is this acquisition from eight months ago—a defunct monastery in the Carpathian Mountains.”

Caleb leans forward. “What’s significant about a monastery?”

“The price,” Lydia says. “They paid nearly triple its market value.”

“Triple?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice. “What’s in the Carpathians that would warrant a price like that?”

“I’m not sure.” She taps a fingertip against her bottom lip in thought. “Aside from a bunch of dormant volcanoes, there’s not much there. Unless you consider Vlad Tepes.”

“Who?” Caleb frowns.

“You know… Dracula,” Lydia says.

Cartwright gives a snort. “Ridiculous!”

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