Talon Hawkins' fall from grace had been slow, public, and excruciatingly visible. People whispered it now in high-class cocktail lounges and red-carpet sidelines:
"He used to be a genius. A bit of a fanatic but now…"
"Now he's… not well."
"Poor man. Money can't fix grief."
"He still believes Devachi survived that explosion? Lunatic."
In the five years since the plane crash, Talon had become something the public spoke about in lowered voices and fascinated headlines—a cautionary tale wrapped in obscene wealth and obsession. To the outside world, he was no longer merely a billionaire or a powerful figure hidden behind old money and influence who was simply a fan of a rising star. Now, he had become that man:
The one who destroyed himself searching for someone long presumed dead.
