The dark SUV didn’t steer toward the shiny glass tower that housed our Midtown offices.
Instead, it moved silently through the morning traffic, heading toward a quiet, ivy-covered townhouse tucked away in Gramercy Park. No neon signs, no flashy gold accents, just a heavy, weathered oak door and a valet whose movements carried the kind of careful deference reserved for royalty or those who could buy their way into it.
“This place is very secluded. You aren't planning to kidnap me, are you?” I tried to cover my nervousness with a joke, clutching my briefcase tightly as my knuckles went white. Truthfully, I didn't know what to expect from this breakfast meeting.
Inside, the restaurant was an oasis of quiet, old-money luxury. We were led past the main dining area, where some of the city’s
