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“Time to get it finished.”

“No problem, Fionn. The seller’s solicitor wants reassurance about the change in company first.”

I exhale a sigh. “Give him reassurance.”

“Like what?”

“Tell him it’s an internal restructure. The funding position hasn’t changed.”

“And there’s nothing to tie you to it?”

“Not unless someone knows where to look.”

“Understood.”

That was the first useful thing my law degree taught me.

Power hides in the small print.

I end the call and slide the phone back into my pocket.

Inside, my father stands in the hallway with a phone pressed to his ear. He crooks his fingers at me in the expectant way he’s done since I learned how to walk.

“Christ, son. You’re bleeding,” he says. “You’re not a thug.”

“It’s just a scratch,” I tell him.

His eyes pass over the thin slit, the damp hair at my temples, the gym bag in my hand. He’s always hated signs of effort. Apparently, men should look born to power, not trained into it.

Blood belongs on other men, not on the Harringtons.

“Tonight should run without interruption,” he says. “We’ve got a lot of influential people coming. Keep focused on Eilish and give the crowd something to celebrate.”

“It’ll be fine,” I assure him. “Unless you invited Keira and her new boyfriend.”

My father’s mouth twitches at the suggestion. “She wasn’t invited, and that mouthy Tallon girl had better not show up. If she thinks⁠—”

“I’ll deal with Sera.”

A security man approaches with an issue about the main gate comms.

When I nod and step away, my father grabs my arm. “Tonight is theater. Remember that.”

“I never forget there’s always an audience.” I meet my father’s eyes and smile with the part of me he trained best. “I’ll have the Kinnanes eating out of my hand.”

He studies me for another second, then turns toward the house. “Be dressed by six.”

I watch him go inside beneath garlands being lifted over the door by two staff members who don’t meet his eyes.

The engagement party will be in full swing soon. Eilish Kinnane will arrive because duty has already placed its hand at her back, and Sera Tallon will know better than to show her face.

And if she does, I’ll understand it as a declaration of war.

Chapter 8

Sera

Iron gates close behind us as the car glides through a tunnel of clipped trees lit up with cold white lights underneath.