Chloe’s POV
She entered a private members’ lounge downtown. Not a public restaurant. Not somewhere cameras flashed easily. I waited ten minutes before going in.
I kept my head down. Ordered coffee. Sat far enough away not to be obvious but close enough to see her reflection in the mirrored wall.
She wasn’t alone.
A man sat across from her. Mid-fifties. Expensive suit. Familiar face.
My stomach tightened.
He was one of the board members.
They weren’t eating.
They weren’t smiling.
They were arguing in low voices.
Margaret leaned forward, her posture rigid, her jaw tight. The man shook his head, tapping something on the table between them. A folder. Thick. Official.
I couldn’t hear the words, but I could read the tension.
This wasn’t charity work.
This was damage control.
I sub
