Page 289 of Black Reign

He stops hesitating.

Thirty seconds later, only the two of us remain.

I lean against the edge of my desk.

“Morning.”

“Tell me you do not have Adrien Beaumont's daughter sleeping in your bed.”

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I say nothing for a second.

Then:

“She's sleeping.”

His expression darkens.

“In your bed.”

“That tends to happen in bedrooms.”

His palm slams against the conference table.

Even through encrypted video, the crack carries.

“Who the hell are you?”

I lift one brow.

“Your son.”

“No.” He points toward the screen. “My son would have had her contained, questioned, and every device she has ever touched stripped down to component level before sunrise.”

The bedroom door remains visible from where I stand.

A thin black line at the end of the hallway.

Quiet.

“She was kidnapped.”

“She is Vesper.”

“Yes.”

“The woman who compromised Blackwell architecture.”

“Parts of it.”

“Do not split hairs with me.”

“I'll split whatever I want until you explain how you know she's here.”

That stops him.