The next morning broke colorless, the city gray as steel.
From every paperboy's throat rang the same cry:
"MINISTER CROSS TO FACE PARLIAMENTARY INQUEST!"
Charlton Daniel folded the newspaper slowly, his gloves creasing the wet ink.
He should have felt triumph.
Instead, all he heard were Serena's words echoing through the rain.
"I can't watch you fall."
She had said it once to him — now she'd said it again… to Christopher Cross.
The repetition stung more than he expected.
He told himself it didn't matter — that the words were just habit, not sentiment — but the sound of them still throbbed behind his ribs.
Once, they had meant she loved him.
Now they meant she pitied another man.
He turned toward the window of The Nest.
Outside, Windsor moved like a living organism — restless, unfeeling, unaware that its masters were devouring each other.
