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But Cromwell is, as always, unmoved. Even by talk of ruining his daughter. The firelight flickers in his eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he mutters. “That part.”

“I don’t know if I can do that to her.”

I think about last night. About how I very nearly kissed her. How it took every part of me to not give in to it.

“Don’t fall into the trap of sentimentality, Fabien.”

“Sentimentality?”

“Emotion is a weakness,” he explains. “You are sleeping with my daughter, but don’t mistake that for anything other than what it is. Sentimentality would suggest this week is about repairing some long-forgotten wound between you both. But it isn’t. This week isn’t about confronting your guilt with my son, nor the secrets you’ve kept from him. No, this week is about one thing and one thing only. Your future.”

How the hell he knows about what once happened between Jolie and me, I can’t guess. His knowledge chills me to the bone.

“Okay. Cut out the sentimentality. Got it.”

This philosophy makes me sick, but I hide it well.

The smirk hasn’t left Cromwell’s face.

“I admire what you’ve done in building your art empire,” he continues. “You’ve worked hard. You’ve dreamed hard. But reality has a ceiling, unfortunately, and you’ve reached it. The only way higher is via the Castaways. Do you want to honor your father’s legacy?”

You are my legacy, son.

Of course he fucking knows what my father once said to me.

“I do,” I say sincerely.

Cromwell leans forward.

“It takes more than words to honor that legacy,” he continues. “It takes action. It takes everything at your disposal. Be selfish. Be ambitious. Cut out everyone else like a tumor. Even Jolie. Only then will you get what you want. That’s what I did.”

“And spending a week with Jolie is what I have to do?”

“Precisely. Don’t let your past with her derail you now when you are so close to cementing your future.”

There must’ve been a reason why he brought me in when I was a boy, because it certainly wasn’t out of charity.

“And why are you so determined for me to become a member of the Castaways?” I ask him. “What happens when I’m in the Order for you?”

Cromwell leans back in his leather chair.

“Ah, now you’re asking the right questions,” he says. “See, that’s why I think you will make a fine member. I will continue to be honest with you. I hope that after this week, I can count on your support in the Order.”

“I see.”

Cromwell pauses again for a moment, and then he lowers his voice.

“Are you willing to partake in talk of treason, Fabien?”

“Only if it’s to do with what I think you’re getting at. The Masked Killer.”

“Precisely.”

“He’s what I want,” I say. “Please, go ahead.”

“This entire business with the murderer and the inaction of our current leadership to deal with the fallout is sowing doubt in the Order. The other Elders spend all their time talking while more men die. It’s only a matter of time before a new leadership vote is called, and Leopold Anguish will almost certainly run for it. We need someone to halt his ambitions before he can inflict real damage.”