Mr. Davenport sat in his office, the phone in his hand. His fingers tapped nervously against the desk as he thought about what he needed to say. He couldn’t shake the guilt in his chest. His daughter, Lina, was in deep trouble, and he needed help to clean up the mess she had made.
Taking a deep breath, he dialed Mr. Wolfe’s number. The line rang for a few seconds before Wolfe’s deep voice answered.
“This is Wolfe,” the voice said, firm and commanding.
“Mr. Wolfe, this is Davenport,” he said, his voice slightly shaking. “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“Not at all,” Wolfe replied, though his tone was cold. “What can I do for you?”
Mr. Davenport cleared his throat, trying to steady his nerves. “I need to meet with you,” he said. “There’s something important I want to discuss.”
Wolfe was silent for a moment, and the pause made Davenport’s stomach twist. Finally, Wolfe spoke.
“I see,” he said, his voice calm but unreadable. “As it happens, I’ve been meaning to speak with you as well.”
This caught Davenport off guard. “You have?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion.
“Yes,” Wolfe said simply. “Why don’t we meet at my house? Tomorrow, let’s say noon. Does that work for you?”
Davenport hesitated. The idea of going to Wolfe’s house made him uneasy, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes,” he said finally. “That works.”
“Good,” Wolfe said. “I’ll see you then.”
Before Davenport could say anything else, Wolfe ended the call.
Davenport set the phone down, his hands trembling slightly. He felt a wave of unease wash over him. Why did Wolfe want to speak to him? Did he know something?
“No,” Davenport muttered to himself, shaking his head. “He doesn’t know anything. Lina’s safe. I just need to convince him to end the marriage quietly.”
But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Wolfe already knew more than he let on.
Meanwhile, in his own study, Wolfe leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He placed the phone on the desk, his fingers steepled in front of him as he thought about the upcoming meeting.
“So, Davenport wants to talk,” Wolfe said to himself. “Interesting.”
He already knew why Davenport wanted to meet. Lina’s actions had been careless, and the consequences could have been deadly. But Wolfe had decided to stay quiet, for now. He wanted to see how Davenport would handle the situation.
Marcus, his trusted guard, stepped into the room. “Sir,” he said, bowing slightly. “Everything all right?”
Wolfe looked at him, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. “Davenport just called,” he said. “He wants to meet with me.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What do you think he wants?”
“To clean up his daughter’s mess,” Wolfe said simply.
Marcus nodded, stepping closer. “Do you plan to tell him what you know?”
Wolfe shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to see what he says first. Davenport is a fool, but I’m curious to hear how he explains this.”
“And if he lies?” Marcus asked.
Wolfe’s smirk returned, cold and calculating. “Then I’ll know exactly where we stand,” he said.
Marcus hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Do you think it’s wise to keep this quiet, sir? Damian could have died because of what Lina did. Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”
Wolfe’s expression darkened. “Damian will know the truth when the time is right,” he said firmly. “For now, I want to deal with Davenport. Let’s see how far he’s willing to go to protect his daughter.”
Marcus nodded, stepping back. “Understood, sir.”
As Marcus left the room, Wolfe leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He thought about Damian, lying in the hospital, and the girl, Aurora, who had caused such a change in him.
“Damian is a fool for letting his emotions get the better of him,” Wolfe muttered to himself. “But maybe… maybe there’s something to be learned from all this.”
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip as he stared out the window. The upcoming meeting with Davenport would be interesting, and Wolfe was already planning his next move.