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“The rest of it?”
“Digital ash.”
He clears his throat.
“You’ll only need the page one, though,” he says quietly. “And again, I’m doing this for Thomas, for the safety of his daughter, and because seeing this has dragged me extremely unwillingly to your perspective on things.”
My pulse thuds deeply, jaw grinding.
“I won’t thank you, Kristoff. But I will tell you I’m grateful.”
“Be well, Noel.”
He hangs up. A second later, I get the email notification. I sink into my desk chair and bring it up, opening the attached image—apparently page one of some kind of PDF document. The header is that of a behavioral psychiatrist—a Dr. Raymond Jeong, out of New York. And the document looks to be the handwritten top page of a psychiatric evaluation write-up:
Dr. Raymond Jeong, MD
3287 7thAvenue, suite B
New York City, NY
10018
Subject: Prince.
I go still, my eyes stabbing into the screen as I read on.
New patient evaluation: findings and preliminary treatments/corrective courses.
Mr. Prince, a UK citizen, sat for eval on own accord - non combative, receptive to questions and psychological inquiries. No immediately obvious or volunteered history of acute trauma. Patient is well educated, wealthy, and comes from a well-connected family in both business and politics. Psych concernsnotrooted in financial or vocational stress.
In session, Mr. Prince was familiar with PCL-R psychopathy test. Furthermore, seemed excited to take it. In conversations surrounding test, subject came off as boastful, overly confident, and yet eager to please.
Preliminary PCL-R findings heavily suggested psychopathic leanings.
Mr. Prince admits to a fascination with fire from a young age.
The world seems to tilt off-axis around me. My breathing becomes heavier, my eyes narrowing at the words igniting across my screen.
Mr. Prince exhibits a fairly callous disregard for human life or suffering. I would hesitate to label as Machiavellian, only because of his extreme narcissism. Mr. Prince views himself as “above” others, and it is my opinion that it would be extremely difficult for him to work with almost anyone but himself to achieve goals.
Holy fuck. Prince isnotoriousfor being a lone wolf when it comes to his business. The seats at his own boardroom table are showpiece members at best, and the man has blown through four CEOs in as many years, firing every single one of them.
Everything I’ve always feared—all my suspicions—are laid out across the exam notes. And my blood runs cold.
While patient has not openly admitted to, bragged of, or even alluded to crimes committed, it is my professional opinion that Mr. Prince exhibits repressed anger issues, megalomaniacal tendencies, extreme narcissism possibly stemming from undiagnosed bi-polar disorder. And most worrisome, pyromaniacal fascination.
Extensive further testing and behavioral monitoring is heavily suggested. When this was brought up to Mr.—
And that’s it. That’s the whole page. I stare at it in horror, my heart thudding in my chest. This isn’t the damming evidence I was looking for.
It’s a hundred times worse.
Panic lances through my chest as I suddenly lunge from my desk and bolt to the window. I grip the sides of it tightly, my eyes stabbing through the panes.
Ella is fine. She’s still just sitting on the bench, typing away at her laptop.
My pulse thuds, hands shaking slightly as I grab my phone.
“Liam,” I snarl. “I wanteverythingon lockdown—”
“Boss, you need to listen—”
“It can wait,” I snap. “This is absolutely top priority. I want every building on full alert. Contact our charitable liaison with the police. Double the fucking men at the house, and I want to knowexactlywhere the fuck Oliver Prince is—”
“Oliver Prince is in emergency surgery.”
I blink, coming to a halt as my ears ring.
“His penthouse just went up in flames.”
