Chapter 10 - Old Enemies, New Faces
In a private club on the far edge of the financial district, a different kind of meeting was taking place. Desmond Ashford's warning had not been idle — and within days, it proved prophetic.
A woman in her forties, sharp-suited and sharper-eyed, sat across from a man known only as Grigor, a name whispered in the circles Royce had fought to distance himself from.
"Calloway's gone soft," the woman said, sliding a folder across the table — photographs of Della leaving the hospital, of the estate gates, of Viktor's car. "A pregnant waitress. That's his weakness now."
Grigor studied the photos with the mild interest of a man reading a weather report. "Royce Calloway didn't get where he is by being careless. If this girl matters to him, she'll be guarded like a vault."
"Every vault has a way in," the woman said. "We don't need to touch her. We just need Calloway distracted long enough to reclaim what he took from us three years ago — the shipping contracts, the ports, all of it. A man in love makes mistakes a man alone in the world never would."
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Grigor was quiet for a long moment, turning a glass of amber liquid between his fingers. "Careful, Renata. The last man who called Royce Calloway 'distracted' is buried under a parking structure on Fifth."
Renata smiled thinly. "Then let's make sure we're smarter than he was."
