Chapter 8 - The Man in the Shadows
Viktor stood in the underground garage of Calloway Tower, waiting as a black sedan pulled to a slow stop. From it emerged a lean man in his sixties, silver-haired, wearing a coat far too expensive for a man who claimed to be "just visiting."
"Mr. Ashford," Viktor greeted, tone carefully neutral. "The boss is expecting you upstairs."
Desmond Ashford, the quiet financier who had bankrolled Royce's very first acquisition seven years ago, smiled thinly. "Seven years, and the boy finally found his girl. I have to say, Viktor, I never thought Royce Calloway had it in him — sentiment, of all things."
"Careful how you say that to his face," Viktor replied evenly, leading him to the private elevator.
Upstairs, Royce stood at his office window, the city sprawling beneath him. He didn't turn when Ashford entered.
"You didn't have to come in person," Royce said.
"When my favorite protégé's photograph is suddenly on every news outlet standing outside a hospital room, I come in person," Ashford said, settling into a chair uninvited. "Tell me, Royce — is this girl going to be a liability, or is she the reason you finally stop being untouchable and start being human?"
Royce's jaw tightened. "Della is not a subject for your assessments."
"Then she matters," Ashford said simply, folding his hands. "Good. Because a man with nothing to lose is dangerous, Royce. But a man with something to protect—" he smiled faintly, "—he becomes something far more interesting. And far more careful."
Royce finally turned. "Say what you came to say."
"There are people who will try to use her against you now that your secret is out," Ashford said, his voice losing its playful edge. "The Vances are the least of your problems. You have enemies far older and far quieter than a bankrupt logistics family. If they learn Della Marsh is your one weakness, they won't send lawyers. They'll send worse."
May you like
The warmth that had lived in Royce's chest since the hospital room now cooled into something harder, more familiar — the version of him that had built an empire out of blood and patience.
"Then we make sure," Royce said quietly, "that no one gets close enough to try."
