Chapter 80

The room was filled with smoke and the low murmur of voices as men in sharp suits and gold watches discussed matters that decided the fate of cities. Deals were being made. Alliances were being tested. The underworld never slept, and tonight was no different.

Grace sat at the long table while swirling the whiskey in her glass. The men around her spoke in hushed tones, but she caught every word. She had been raised in rooms like this. This was her world.

But tonight, she knew something was different.

“Have you heard?” a man to her left spoke in intrigue. “Adrian Blackwood is dead. Assassinated in Raeburn Asylum.”

A ripple of murmurs spread across the table. Some smirked, others leaned in wanting to join in the talk. Grace didn’t react. She simply lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip, pretending her heart hadn’t just clenched at the mention of her cousin’s name.

“And the Blackwood Group?” another man asked, lighting a cigar, his shrewd eyes fli