Zander Kash
The sharp sound of tires grinding against the gravel driveway shattered the quiet of the morning.
I was standing in the study reviewing quarterly reports when the iron security gates opened on the monitors. A sleek black town car glided up the drive, its vanity plates instantly identifiable.
My mother.
I felt a cold tension seize the muscles in my neck. She hadn't visited the estate in three months, preferring to summon me to her penthouse in the city whenever she wished to give orders. Her presence here, without prior notice from her executive secretary, meant only one thing.
I stepped out into the grand foyer just as Mrs. Gable opened the heavy double doors.
Evelyn Kash stepped inside. At sixty-two, she possessed the sharp, razor-thin poise of a matriarch who treated li
