Across town.

Andrew Lane's assistant glanced up at him, then at the phone in his hand.

From the phone's speaker came the sound of a trending video-the latest rumors about Ryan Cox.

The assistant had seen quite a few of these clips himself; the buzz was impossible to miss. He could only shake his head, inwardly marveling at how Ryan Cox had clearly crossed the wrong people.

The video looped again. Unable to hold back, the assistant asked, "Mr. Lane, is there anything you need me to do?"

Andrew Lane lifted his gaze, shutting off his phone. "This has gotten loud. Has the Bureau shown any sign of moving yet?"

The assistant shook his head. "No, sir. Kevin Lane gave strict orders-no one over there dares make a move. I think they're all just waiting for things to die down, then they'll probably issue some half-hearted statement."

Andrew Lane grunted. "Got it."

"Set up a meeting with Mr. Michel. Make it tonight at six."

"Mr. Michel?" The assistant hesitated. "But what about Kevin Lane-?"

Andrew Lane's voice dropped, leaving no room for argument. “Doesn't matter. Set the meeting."

The assistant nodded. "Understood."

He left, nerves still on edge.

6:00 p.m.

Andrew Lane reached across the table and shook hands with the middle-aged man opposite him, his posture calm and self-assured, his tone light. “Mr. Michel. Been a long time."

Mr. Michel grinned and shook his hand warmly. “Mr. Lane, you're a busy man. It's not easy to catch you these days. We should make the most of tonight."

Andrew Lane's lips curled into a faint smile. "Absolutely."

He raised his glass in a toast. "To you, Mr. Michel."

Mr. Michel quickly lifted his own glass. "To you as well, Mr. Lane."

They both downed their drinks in one go.

Andrew Lane got straight to the point. "Mr. Michel, I'd like your help with the Ryan Cox case."

Mr. Michel sucked in a breath, setting his glass down with a troubled look.

"Mr. Lane, I understand what you're asking, but.....”

He hesitated, shaking his head. “Kevin Lane already spoke to me about this. I'm

afraid it's out of my hands. I hope you can understand."

Andrew Lane listened silently, then replied in a low voice, "I understand."

Mr. Michel studied his face, choosing his words carefully.

"If I may, Mr. Lane—you and Kevin Lane are family. As the younger generation, maybe you should listen to your grandfather. He thinks highly of you, you know. If anyone in this world is on your side, it's him."

Andrew Lane glanced up at him, expression unreadable. "What I do has nothing to do with my grandfather."

Mr. Michel faltered. "Is that so? Still, you must know-when Kevin Lane makes his wishes clear, I don't dare cross him."

He lowered his voice. "You've seen what's been happening online. The whole thing's blown up. The higher-ups are asking questions, but with Kevin Lane protecting him, my hands are tied. All I can do is wait for the storm to pass." Andrew Lane turned to his assistant.

The assistant immediately pulled a thick folder from his briefcase.

Andrew Lane took it, while Mr. Michel's gaze locked on the cover, his eyes lighting up when he caught a glimpse of the title.

Andrew Lane held the file under his arm. "I know you've been busy with that East End project lately. As it happens, I can put you in touch with the right people."

Mr. Michel's eyes grew even brighter, and he nearly shot out of his seat. "You can?"

Andrew Lane watched him carefully, then slid the file across the table.

Mr. Michel's gaze was glued to the folder, following it as it moved. He all but snatched it from Andrew Lane's hand and began flipping through the pages, breath quickening with every sheet.

"Mr. Lane, this this is..."

He looked up, locking eyes with Andrew Lane.

Andrew Lane folded his hands on the table. “Help me with this small favor, Mr.

Michel, and the file is yours."