The Meridian Crown was bustling with the Friday lunch crowd, a sea of tailored suits and hushed conversations. Jake didn't stop at the maître d's station. He caught the eye of the floor manager, a man who had seen three generations of the Rivers family pass through these doors.
"I need the vault room," Jake said, referring to one of the soundproofed private booths at the back. "No service unless I buzz."
The manager nodded instantly and led them toward the rear. As they passed the main dining area, Alice slowed down, her eyes tracking a man sitting alone at a small table by the window. He was dressed in a simple charcoal suit, nursing a black coffee while staring at nothing in particular.
"That's him," Alice whispered to Jake.
Jake continued to the private room while Alice circled back. A minute later, she stepped into the booth, followed by the man. Up close, he looked even more imposing. His knuckles were scarred, and his posture was so upright it looked painful.
