Madame Beck couldn't believe how quickly everything had unravelled. In one night, she had not only lost her most promising entertainer but also her most generous client.
"It all makes sense, but why does something still feel off?" she muttered, massaging her temples. Frustrated, she grabbed her phone and ordered, "Get me Diana Jones first thing tomorrow morning! No, not tonight—she's probably still with Alexander Lancaster. And assign someone to tail Alexander. Make sure it's done discreetly!"
Just as she ended the call, her assistant Arlene entered the room, panting. "We have a problem. Michael..."
"That bastard!" Madame Beck cursed under her breath as she hurried towards the private elevator leading to her underground facility. Michael Astor was her partner in all her illegal dealings, the powerful connection that had allowed her operations to flourish. But she was growing weary of constantly cleaning up his messes.
