The next two days were a blur of clear water, white sand, and sunlight. We lost track of time. No thinking about FBI, shadow organizations and crypto charts. Just the ocean.
On the final afternoon, Captain Ross pushed the throttle. The yacht surged forward, cutting through the chop as we raced back to the marina.
Sam and I stood at the railing, watching the Fort Lauderdale skyline turn from a jagged line into a wall of glass and steel.
He looked nervous again, his fingers tapping on the metal rail. "June is coming up," he said, his voice low over the sound of the engines. "My father's birthday. I have to figure out my strategy."
"I've got a strategy for you," I said, looking straight ahead at the city. "Don't go."
"Jack, if I don't show, I'm out of the will. I lose my claim."
"You don't need his claim," I said calmly. "You've got a billion dollars in assets right now, Sam. You built that. You don't need to beg for his approval or his money."
