LAWSON MANSION
Mr. Lawson and Malcolm Moore sat by the bar cabinet at the private study, glasses in hand, murmuring over a quiet drink when the office door burst open without warning.
Benjamin strode in, face pale, breathing uneven.
Mr. Lawson arched a brow, his voice low. “Have you completely lost your manners?”
Benjamin blinked, realizing his misstep. “Sorry. I—sorry.”
Malcolm exchanged a glance with Mr. Lawson. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Malcolm asked.
Benjamin didn’t sit or approach the bar. He just stood there, urgency pulsing through every movement.
“He knows,” Benjamin said flatly.
Both men froze.
Mr. Lawson set his glass down slowly. “Who knows what?”
Benjamin met their eyes. “Miguel. I think he knows about the funds, the deal...”
Malcolm scoffed. “What are
