e a highly exclusive, unmarked Michelin

he warzone of the Schmitt estate, they needed t

ître d' and into a private, dimly lit dining ro

ny table, the flickering candlelight casti

culously crafted narrative. He painted a picture of a chance encounter at a high-society charity banquet last month. According to the script, it wa

g his micro-expressions, silently building a psycho

ed her mother's early death, Warren's hostile takeover of th

training, the underground medical degrees, and the

ally smell the secrets she was holding back. But h

der across the table. It contained a watertight Non-Discl

ing for traps. Finding none, she picked up the heavy Montbl

Schmitt estate on Long Island,

ng room, his face an

enom. "That ungrateful little bitch. After everyth

ke tears. "She was a monster, Dad. She practically

he teacups rattle. "She will submit! I am not losing the Ramirez

rust fund, Warren. Once you cut off her mother's money, she won't

dabbed the corner of her mouth with a l

wrist. "Time's up. I need to go giv

tailored suit jacket from the back

entually pulling up to the towering wr

ed the hem of her trench coat around her legs. She stood a

is dark, intense eyes locked onto her. "

er. A cold, bloodthirsty smile c

ward the gates, radiating

e shadows. A genuine smile touched his lips. He tapped

t. The warmth vanished from his voice, replaced

chmitt family's financials," Bronson ordered.

d on the brightly lit living room windows. She