Over the years, Michael had pulled plenty of strings behind the scenes to trip Dylan up, but he was never the guy leading the charge. Honestly, everyone in the city wanted Dylan gone. He was just too powerful—hogging most of the pie for himself and expanding Ferguson Corporation across borders, making it bigger than anyone had dreamed. Of course people hated him for it.
Still, Michael couldn’t deny that ever since Dylan took over as heir, the Ferguson family’s reputation had skyrocketed. They were untouchable now, sitting at the top of the social food chain.
Dylan always seemed to do whatever Walter asked, but Michael couldn’t help but think his brother had rebellion written into his bones.
“Dylan, you don’t have to get involved with Simon,” Michael said, forcing his voice steady. “I’ll talk to Dad and get Simon transferred to a branch office. He won’t be back for a year, maybe longer.”
Ferguson Corporation had offices everywhere—in every major city, even abroad. As long as Simon was out of town, he wouldn’t be able to cause any real trouble.
Dylan set his knife down, a slow, amused smile curving his lips. “Big brother, I never said anything else.”
Michael’s scalp prickled with anger, his fists tightening at his sides. He was sure now—Lincoln’s accident had been Dylan’s doing. And after watching how neatly Dylan cleaned up Eden’s mess, leaving Walter with nothing to pin on him, Michael realized: if Dylan wanted to destroy anyone, it would be effortless.
Don’t mess with Dylan.
He bit his lip so hard it hurt, but even tied up, he kept his mouth shut.
Dylan stepped out, pausing to glance at the moon glowing in the night sky, and let out a quiet sigh.
As soon as Dylan was gone, Michael’s face turned red with frustration. He immediately called for Ada to come untie him.
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