Ashworth signed.
It took another hour of quiet, brutal negotiation — threats disguised as terms, terms disguised as mercy — but by the time they rode the elevator back down to the street, Callum Ashworth had put his name to a confession that would dismantle everything he'd built on the back of Damon's ruin, and the particular, twelve-year-old weight Damon had carried since the night his sister died had finally, visibly, begun to lift from his shoulders.
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