After chasing the others away, Derek's arrogant gaze was replaced with caution. "Did you investigate me before you came?"
"If I hadn't investigated you, how would I dare to meet you?" Stella Lockwood jumped off the gambling table, dusted off her hands, and recited his details as if they were her own. "Derek Keaton, male, 36 years old. An enforcer for The West End Gambling Den. Unemployed. You usually get by selling scrap metal and watching the den for extra cash. You also engage in some petty theft from time to time. You're a devoted son. Your mother has a brain tumor and is staying at the Third Hospital. The tumor has been growing for a year, but you don't have the money for surgery. She was admitted this time because she fainted... Am I wrong?"
