Chapter 18 - The Shadow Partner In The Lounge
Sitting in a leather armchair by the fireplace was an elderly man in a bespoke charcoal suit, holding a silver-headed walking cane between his knees.
His face was lined with deep wisdom and age, his dark eyes sharp, calculating, and fixed on me as I stepped into the room.
“Clara,” the old man said, his voice deep, gravelly, and carrying an unmistakably aristocratic British accent.
“You look remarkably like your father, Arthur Vance—a man who was far more powerful than you ever knew.”
I stood near the marble fireplace, keeping a comfortable ten-foot distance as my analytical mind evaluated his presence.
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“Who are you?” I asked calmly. “And why are you bringing up my father’s name at a public business summit?”
The old man pulled a heavy iron key and a yellowed parchment ledger from his inner jacket pocket, setting them onto the glass coffee table.
