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So here I am, ready to put the final piece of the story together. I’m not dumb enough to barge in and start accusing Ronan and his family of misdeeds. No, I’ll be subtle. But once my story comes out, they won’t be able to continue to rain terror over this city. They’ll be too busy dodging legal actions and community outrage. At least that’s my plan.

The receptionist eyes me warily as I approach. "I'm here to see Ronan Kean."

"Do you have an appointment?" Her perfectly manicured nail hovers over her keyboard.

"Nope, but I have a deadline and I’m sure he’d like to have input on a story about his family’s spectacular success in Boston." I keep my voice steady despite being nervous.

"One moment."

While she makes the call, I scan the lobby. Security cameras track every movement. Two broad-shouldered men in suits who must be guards watch me with calculated interest. The pristine environment feels like a façade hiding something rotting underneath.

Flint's warning echoes in my head. I know he's right. This is dangerous. But I'm tired of living in fear. The Keans destroyed his family, and now they're threatening mine before it's even begun.

“Mr. Kean can spare you a few moments,” the receptionist says, handing me a visitor’s badge.

“Thank you.” My nerves vibrate more intensely. I think I half expected to fail in getting access.

As I step into the elevator, my phone buzzes again. Probably Flint. I silence it without looking.

The elevator climbs higher, and I straighten my shoulders, channeling all my determination. I’m a professional. So is Mr. Kean, at least here in his shiny office. Surely, I’m safe in a place that masks the ugly underbelly of his business.

I pull out my phone and turn on the recorder… just in case. I arrive at Mr. Kean’s floor, exiting the elevator and walking to the double wooden doors with his name on it.

"Mr. Kean, thank you for seeing me.” I plaster on a friendly smile and thrust out my hand to shake his.

Ronan looks up from his desk, an amused expression on his face. At thirty, he looks smarmy, with perfectly styled blond hair and cold green eyes that assess me like I'm an insect that's crawled onto his pristine desk.

"Come in, Miss…?"

"Ketchum. Lucy Ketchum."

"Please, have a seat." He ignores my outstretched hand, instead gesturing to the leather chair across from his desk. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "What brings you barging into my office uninvited today?"

I settle into the chair, forcing my hands to stay steady as I pull out my notebook. "I'm writing a piece about Boston's most successful families. The Kean name is at the top of the list. You’ve had a meteoric rise to fame and fortune in the city."

"Meteoric?" He leans back, adjusting his expensive tie. "I wouldn't say that. My father worked hard to build this empire."

"Yes, but in just a decade. It's remarkable, really, the kind of success story people dream about. Your story will inspire so many would-be entrepreneurs, but it’s surprisingly hard to get anyone to comment about how you did it.”

"Perhaps people simply respect our privacy." His tone carries a warning.

"That almost sounds like there’s something to hide."

The amusement drops from his face for a split second before his practiced smile returns. "Miss Ketchum, if you're suggesting something improper about my family's success?—”

I wave my hand. “No, not at all. I’m impressed with your success. I just find it fascinating how quickly your father established himself, especially after the power vacuum left by the Ifrinn family's tragic demise."

His green eyes turn to ice. "You seem rather fixated on ancient history."

"Ten years isn't that ancient. That’s the point. Ten years ago, did you imagine you’d be sitting here in this grand office, your family like royalty in Boston?”

“Of course. My father had a vision. We’ve achieved everything he set out to achieve. We did it through hard work and a strong vision.” His casual posture and easy smile feel calculated, like a snake coiled to strike.

"See, that’s the insight the public will love. I don’t know that anyone else would have guessed the success your family would achieve. But hard work and a vision… I love that.” I tap my pen against my notepad. "Your father's company expanded at an unprecedented rate, acquiring properties, businesses, securing major contracts, while those who were more established seemed to flounder. What did you do that you were able to achieve what they couldn’t?”

Ronan swivels slightly in his chair, completely at ease. "My father has always had excellent business instincts."

"And connections, I imagine. The right people backing him at the right time?" I keep my tone light, curious rather than accusatory.