Henri Delarney’s grip tightened around his phone, his expression darkening as the voice on the other end wavered.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Delarney,” the voice said, careful, almost pleading. “The risks are too great. Leclair Industries and the Morettis… it’s too much heat. No one in their right mind would—”
Henri’s jaw tightened, and his free hand curled into a fist at his side. “I’m not asking you to attack them head-on, Marcello. I need leverage, something to destabilize their alliance. If you’re too cowardly to see an opportunity, then I’ll find someone who isn’t.” He kept his voice low, but the venom in it was unmistakable.
There was a pause, heavy with tension. Marcello’s voice, now edged with nerves, responded, “Good luck with that, Henri. You’re stepping into a war you can’t win.” The li
