---- Chapter 20 Hamilton Glass POV: | found her in a grimy, forgotten corner of Mexico, living under anew name with a new face, courtesy of a back-alley surgeon. Kacey Nolan, the beautiful, ambitious executive, was gone. In her place was a woman with haunted eyes and cheap, bleached-blonde hair. She had the last of the Glass family's bearer bonds with her, a small fortune she had stolen from my grandfather's safe before she fled. It was all she had left. When she saw me, she didn't scream or run. She just laughed, a high, hysterical sound that echoed in the dusty cantina. "Look what the cat dragged in," she sneered, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Come to finish the job?" "Where is it, Kacey?" | asked, my voice flat. | was beyond rage, beyond pain. | was just... empty. "Where's what? The money? Or what's left of it?" She gestured around the pathetic little bar. "This is it, Hamilton. The grand prize." "The proof," | said. "The proof of what my grandfather did. The original instructions he gave you. The offshore account ---- transfers to the Verrattis. | know you have it. You were always smart enough to have an insurance policy." Her eyes narrowed. She took another drag of her cigarette, studying my face. "Why?" she asked, a flicker of genuine curiosity in her voice. "Why do you care? To get back at him? To reclaim your throne?" "No," | said, and the word was the truest thing | had said in years. "The throne is worthless. All of it is. | want it so | can burn it all to the ground. He built an empire on lies and cruelty. He destroyed the only good thing in my life. | want him to have nothing. Just like me." She was quiet for a long time, the smoke from her cigarette curling around her face. Finally, she crushed the butt in an overflowing ashtray. "It's on a hard drive," she said. "In a safe deposit box in Zurich. The key is yours... for a price." "Name it." "Anew life," she said. "A real one. Clean passport, new identity, enough money to disappear for good. | want to be a ghost, Hamilton. Just like you made her." The irony was not lost on me. | agreed. | gave her what she wanted. And in return, she gave me the key. ---- | flew to Zurich. The hard drive contained everything. Every email, every bank transfer, every recorded phone call. It was a detailed blueprint of my grandfather's treachery, not just against Anya, but against dozens of partners and rivals over the years. It was enough to dismantle his entire legacy. | didn't leak it to the press. That would be too quick, too merciful. Instead, | sent it to the one person who would know exactly what to do with it. The one person who had more reason to want my grandfather destroyed than | did. | sent it to Anya. There was no note. No apology. No pathetic plea for forgiveness. Just the data. It was the only thing | had left to give her. A final, desperate act of penance. A weapon for her to use as she saw fit. After | sent it, | walked out of the post office into the cold Swiss air and didn't look back. | had no company, no family, no home. | was just a man with a name that was now synonymous with failure and betrayal. | had finally become a ghost myself.