In a spacious unadorned apartment, Aidan Wilson leaned against the kitchen counter. His fingers idly tapped over the cool marble surface as his eyes narrowed at the dim glow of his spare phone screen. It wasn't his main device, too traceable, too exposed.
This was under a different name. A trusted one.
He had long learned that being discreet was more than just a necessity, it was survival. Especially with siblings like his, who would rather see him bloodied and bruised than sipping fine wine in peace. He had gone through countless layers of caution. Cars, SIM cards, even private accounts. None of them bore his name.
Alex Ford was one of his assistants working behind the scenes. He wasn't foolish enough to simply transfer ownership to them, he had used many guarantees, contracts, legal binds and a stack of blackmail-worthy evidence to deter them from backstabbing him.
