The invitation arrived in gold foil, because of course it did. Everything about the Fox world came dressed in money, right down to the envelopes. It was delivered by courier, sealed with the Fox Global insignia and a handwritten note that said: Private Investor Dinner… Attendance Requested.
I should've known better. I should've smelled the setup the moment I saw "private" and "investor" in the same sentence. But after the last few days of chaos, silence felt dangerous. So, against every self-preserving instinct left in my body, I showed up.
The dinner was hosted at La Verité, one of those Michelin-starred restaurants where the servers moved like ghosts and the lighting made everyone look like a better version of themselves. The maître d' smiled too wide when I gave my name. "Ah, Mi
