He called Caelan at seven-thirty in the morning.
Not from the office. From the kitchen, sitting at the table where Damien had eaten overcooked pasta the night before, with tea he wasn't drinking and the folded sheet with Adrian's name on it in front of him.
Caelan answered on the first ring.
"The Valez Family Trust," Seren said. "Eight point two percent shareholding. Trustee listed as A. Valez." He paused. "That's my brother's name."
Silence.
Not the processing kind. The kind that meant Caelan was already running the implications.
"Damien told you," he said.
"Last night. At my kitchen table." Seren looked at the sheet. "Adrian doesn't have that kind of money. Someone set this up in his name. Which means someone has been planning to use my family as a lever into your company for eighteen months."
"Before you joined the company."
