Finnegan
Abigail's blue eyes shone up at me, excitement rushing through them. This was it. If we could get Owen Smith, then we could make my brother pay for his crimes.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I hadn't seen Devin in fifteen years, and here I was trying to put him in prison. I had believed he was dead, and now I was going to haul him to jail.
My Dad would have been devastated to see all this. But then his death had set so much of it in motion. If he had willed the company to Devin instead of me, maybe my mother and my blockhead of a brother wouldn't have gone this far at all.
Or maybe they would have gotten even worse.
"Send the coordinates to Arnold. He'll have the men on it," I told Matt over the phone, squeezing Abigail's hand.
"Yes, Boss," Matt replied curtly, and I ended the call.
"We've found Owen," Abigail breathed, her eyes widening. "That's great, right? We can now officially reopen my parents' case!"
