Chapter 17
“To new beginnings, Audrey,” Malcolm toasted warmly, clinking his glass against mine.
“You turned a moment of absolute public humiliation into the greatest victory Boston business has seen in twenty years.”
“Thank you, Malcolm,” I smiled, taking a sip of the vintage champagne.
“Sometimes you have to let the trash reveal itself before you can sweep it out of the house.”
As the evening wrapped up, I walked out to the hotel valet stand, waiting for my private Maybach to pull around the driveway.
The night air was crisp and clear, the stars sparkling brightly over the dark waters of the Charles River.
My phone illuminated with an encrypted message from my senior intelligence specialist based in London.
May you like
I opened the file, expecting a routine update on our European expansion strategy for the upcoming quarter.
Instead, the screen displayed a confidential dossier bearing the red seal of the British Royal Banking Commission.
