Page 1

August

Prologue

Water Mill, New York

On a hot, sticky day at the end of a hot, sticky summer, their stepmother summoned them to the Hamptons.

They didn’t really call her this—their “stepmother.” She was simply Ustenya, the mildly terrifying six-foot-tall Eastern European investment banker who’d married their father five years before. Even after half a decade, she remained an enigma, a mystery for which all three Gunn siblings were still gathering clues. She didn’t wear gloves while skiing, for instance, and escaped her country as a teenager, in a truck full of goats. What country, they did not know, other than her culture involved a lot of sour cream and spitting over one’s shoulder for good luck. Regardless, their dad seemed happy, and Ustenya was over forty and came with her own money. It was the best-case scenario for a rich man’s second wife.

On the appointed day at the appointed time, the three Gunns made their separate journeys to Water Mill, and the 12,000-square-foot house on Mecox Bay. That they still owned the Hamptons spread was something of a miracle, but maybe they were finally climbing out of the wreckage.

Talia arrived first, and fifteen minutes early, as eldest daughters and corporate labor attorneys were wont to do. She wore a navy blue logo-less baseball cap and clogs. The woman loved big, clunky shoes.

Ozzie, the youngest, came next, and with great flair. In tight gray pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned to his navel, he leapt out of his helicopter, landing perfectly on a pair of shiny black loafers as his assistant filmed. It was another peek into the life of @DegenerateOz, rich douchebag influencer and the black sheep of a formerly storied family.

Middle child Gabby swept into the house twenty minutes late, making excuses about the drive while Talia dramatically consulted her Cartier Tank watch. It was Gabby’s choice to start a “Cultural Collective” in the Hudson Valley so she couldn’t complain that it took longer to get everywhere. On that day, Gabby was dressed in cargo pants and a tank top probably, though it could’ve been literally anything else as she wasn’t one for fashion or caring how she looked. She was almost twenty-five, a fact that would be important later.

Ustenya stood in front of the massive dark gray marble fireplace in the library, looking flinty in a metallic leopard print. As their father yammered on the phone, on the other side of the black-framed French doors, the three Gunns all wondered if they were about to be hit with more bad news.

TOP BRASS AT F.D. GUNN UNDER INVESTIGATION FOR FRAUDread the initial headline. Uncle Doug had done the fraud, but as the CEO of a media conglomerate that’d been in the family for generations, the light shone directly on their dad, even as he claimed to be in the dark. The courts agreed, but articles detailingTHE WILLFUL IGNORANCE OF MARSTON GUNNstung. He’d trusted his brother, same as the old ladies his brother had bilked.

Eventually, Uncle Doug pleaded down, but Dad had to cobble together cash for fines and restitution. One year ago, he was chairman and CEO of a $15 billion market cap company that owned ninety newspapers, fifty local television stations, and a wildly successful reality network. Now he was unemployed, and F.D. Gunn had been sold for parts. The private jets weregone and vacation homes, too. Adult children could no longer ask for money to purchase penthouses on the Upper East Side.

Now the Gunns sat staring at the marble fireplace in various states of concern and angst. Whatever the news, Ozzie didn’t think it’d bethatawful. Dad couldn’t get any broker. Talia understood there was more than one way a person could go down in flames and she’d been racking her brain for answers, replaying every conversation over the past three months, searching for hints. Gabby smiled and hoped for the best.

“So, when ya gonna coax the big guy inside?” Ozzie asked. His sunglasses were still on. “Some of us are on a tight schedule.”

Talia whipped her head in his direction. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

“I’ve got shit to do.” Ozzie never stayed for dinner, not when their stepmother was involved. You might not think a wealthy middle-aged woman would enjoy cooking, but you’d be wrong. Almost every meal began with a “salad,” an unholy slop of cod, mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, and onions, not a speck of green to be found.

“It would be nice to move this along,” Talia said. “We’re all on the edge of our seats.”

Frustrated—by them or her husband, who really knew?—Ustenya tromped over to the windows and banged on them with both hands. Marston startled. He fumbled his phone, catching it before it hit the ground. After saying goodbye to the person on the other end, he dropped the phone into the front pocket of his shirt and swung open the door.

“Hello, all!” he said as his smile swept the room, covering everything but landing on no one. “My gorgeous family, all in one place.” He sidled up beside his wife. With Ustenya in her heels, they made for an imposing couple, together topping out at six-foot-five. “I can’t wait to hear what everyone’s been up to this summer, but first things first. We can’t waste a second.” He flashed another grin. “We’re already behind in the game.”

“Oh, God, what game?” Ozzie looked at their dad, probably, but it was impossible to know what was going on behind the aviators. “You’re not planning to do more criming?”

Marston ignored this, though they could see his ears redden. “Since my great-great-great-grandfather founded the F.D. Gunn Company in 1871,” he began, “the Gunn name has stood for determination and integrity. For building something out of nothing and being great while doing good.”

Talia made a face. “It has?”

“LOL.” Ozzie snickered. “Get wrecked.”

Gabby kept smiling pleasantly, trying to seem neutral, her signature move.

“It’s been a tough time for the family,” their dad continued, “but I sincerely believe that when one door closes, another one opens.”

Collectively, the kids sighed. Typical Marston Gunn. Their father was a real “clean slate” kinda guy, a “glass half-full” denier of bad things. Uncle Doug embezzled money from old ladies, and Marston still viewed his brother not as a criminal but someone with “historically bad judgment.” Although, notably, they were no longer speaking, so Marston had that going for him in the morals department.

“F.D. Gunn might be a relic of the past, but the Gunn family is not finished. We have an exciting opportunity ahead. A chance to build something new.” He smiled again, though in a slightly pained way, like he was passing gas. “And we can do it together.”

All three kids cocked their heads, curious about this “together” stuff. None of them had ever worked at F.D. Gunn. None of them wanted to, proving that maybe they were smarter than they appeared.

“A new business. Nice. I’m gonna call into this bullet point.” Ozzie tossed his phone aside and leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. “What’s the industry?” he said as his aviators slid to the end of his nose. “What kind of capital are we working with? I knew you were smart enough to hide your money from the Feds.”

“I didn’t hide anything from the Feds.”