Page 1 of Silence and Surrender

Chapter One

Colton

My eyes swam as I stared down at the documents spread across my desk, covering the mahogany surface. The rain pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows of my London office, adding to my already foul mood. I jerked my glasses off my face, pinching the bridge of my nose. Eight hundred million euros in art acquisitions over six months, but the shipping manifests didn’t match the collection records. Not even close.

My phone buzzed as the screen lit up—another message from Cooper reminding me about next month’s family dinner at his Tuscan vineyard. I ignored it, like I’d been ignoring most family obligations lately. Rather than witnessing my twin brother’s idyllic life with his wife, Allegra, and their daughter, Clara, running through the vineyards, I chose to seclude myself in my office, immersed in other people’s wealth and secrets. The last thing I needed was another reminder that while Cooper had found redemption in love, I was here, alone and drowning in London’s financial underbelly.

The thing about working for the ultra-wealthy is that their secrets become your secrets. After five years as legal counsel for Devereux Private Bank, I’d seen enough hidden affairs, illegitimate children, and creative accounting to fill the Tower of London with blackmail material. It was my job to know everything and to say nothing.

But this…I was out of my league.

I pulled out my phone, the screen’s glow harsh in my dimly lit office, searching my contacts for the one person who could confirm a few of the inaccuracies I’d found.

“Steele here.”

The springs in my desk chair creaked as I leaned back. “Hey Steele. It’s Colton.The Raft of Medusa—the original still under your guardianship?”

The rain continued to hammer against my windows as I waited through his pause. “Absolutely.”

My free hand drummed against the desk. “You one hundred percent sure? There’s no chance something could have happened?”

“I would know if someone broke into the Louvre.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to piss you off.” I shuffled through the papers before me. “I’m just dealing with some contracts here at work, and something is…off. Invoices are showing that my firm has acquired it.”

“That’s not possible.” His voice was sharp, full of certainty.

“So…it’s a forgery?” I bit my lip, the taste of copper hitting my tongue. But even a forgery didn’t make sense; we had an art expert on our payroll, and she was supposedly the best of the best.

“I doubt that, there’s only a few that could pull that off, and from what I know, your firm is aware of them. They’d easily trace it back.”

The knot in my stomach tightened. “How aboutLa Belle Ferronnière?”

“Colton.” A subtle warning in his tone.

“Could you check for me?”

“That one is no longer legit. But I know where the original is, and it hasn’t been taken.”

I glanced at my own office wall where an expensive Manet reproduction hung. “How can you know that for sure?”

A frustrated sigh crackled through the line. “Because I’m looking at it right now, shithead. It’s above the mantel in my library.”

Ah.

“What’s really going on, Colton?” The sharpness in Steele’s tone shifted to something more concerned, more brotherly. Even though Steele had been Cooper’s friend first, I knew he had my back as well. “You wouldn’t be calling about paintings unless something was really wrong.”

I ran a hand through my hair, staring at the Thames through the window. The rain bounced off the murky surface, creating cascading ripples. “I think there’s money laundering happening at the bank. Big scale. But it’s...messier than usual. These art acquisitions, they’re not making sense. Wrong shipping routes, impossible purchases. I’ve got documents showing we own pieces that are still in museums or,” I glanced at the papers, “hanging above your fireplace.”

“Send me what you have.” Papers rustled on his end. “Quietly. Use a secure channel.”

“I shouldn’t be involving you in this. You’re out of the game.”

“And you’re family.” His voice hardened. “Besides, art theft was my specialty, remember? If someone’s using fake acquisitions as a cover, I want to know who. I still have museums to protect. And if I can’t have it—no one can. Give me forty-eight hours.”

I fiddled with my tie, suddenly feeling the weight of what I was uncovering. “Thanks, Steele. But keep this between us for now. Don’t tell Cooper.”

“You know he’ll find out eventually.”

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