Inside the opulent presidential suite of the Imperial Palace Hotel, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and the acrid tang of a dying empire. Spencer Hunt sat on the velvet sofa, his brow furrowed as he processed the report. His aristocratic mask was starting to c***k, revealing a man who was becoming increasingly acquainted with the sensation of being outplayed.
"Repeat that," Spencer commanded, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and mounting fury. "I want to make sure I heard you correctly."
The security guard at the door bowed his head, his face pale. " Mr. Hunt... Matthew Powell is here. He’s in the lobby."
Spencer’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating with a sudden, sharp heat. "He’s here? After what he did to the City Planning Authority? He has the gall to
