We left the quiet kitchen and walked down the main hallway toward Mason's formal office. He carried his coffee mug, and I followed him through the heavy oak doors. The room felt cool, and the bright morning sunlight washed over the large mahogany desk. Mason set his mug down on a wooden coaster and opened his leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of printed papers and spread them across the smooth surface of the desk.
"This is the official guest list for the charity gala," Mason explained as he pointed a long finger at the top page. "Eliza and Nadia invited over three hundred people for Saturday night, and every single person on this list holds some level of influence over the company board members."
I walked around the desk and looked at the long columns of names. The pages held the titles of wealthy politicians, major real estate developers, and international corporate investors. I did not recognize a single name on the paper.
