The dimly lit bar was alive with muted conversation and soft jazz music. Emma adjusted her scarf and scanned the room, her eyes landing on a man sitting alone at a corner table. He was older than she expected, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, and his suit exuding understated elegance.
Henry Lawson.
Nate's intel had paid off. After a few late nights of digging, Emma had managed to find a lead suggesting that Lawson frequented this particular bar. Her heart pounded as she approached his table, every step reminding her of the risks she was taking.
"Mr. Lawson?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
Lawson looked up, his sharp eyes appraising her. "Who's asking?"
"Emma Caldwell. I'm a journalist." She offered a polite smile, though her nerves betrayed her. "Do you mind if I join you?"
He gestured to the seat opposite him, his expression neutral. "A journalist, you say? I'm not sure what someone like me could offer you."
Emma sat down, placing her recorder discreetly on the table. "I'm working on a piece about Willow Heights. Your name came up."
Lawson's lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes remained cold. "Willow Heights. A contentious subject, I'm sure. But I'm just a businessman, Ms. Caldwell. I provide solutions for complicated problems."
"Solutions like evicting families?" Emma asked, leaning forward. "People have lost their homes, Mr. Lawson. Their livelihoods. And your 'solutions' seem to lead straight to Devereaux Industries."
Lawson's expression didn't waver. "You're making dangerous assumptions, young lady. Devereaux Industries operates within the bounds of the law, as do I. If you're looking for villains, you won't find any here."
"What about the offshore accounts?" Emma pressed. "The shell companies tied to the Willow Heights project? Your signature appears on several key documents, Mr. Lawson. That's not just coincidence."
For the first time, a flicker of irritation crossed Lawson's face. He leaned forward, his voice low and measured. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Ms. Caldwell. Digging into matters you don't understand. If I were you, I'd tread carefully."
Emma held her ground, her pulse quickening. "Is that a threat?"
"A piece of advice," he said smoothly, leaning back. "You seem like a bright woman. It would be a shame for your career—or your safety—to suffer because of misguided ambition."
The weight of his words hung in the air, but Emma refused to be intimidated. She picked up her recorder and stood. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Lawson. I'll be sure to quote you accurately."
As she turned to leave, Lawson's voice stopped her. "Ms. Caldwell."
She glanced back, meeting his gaze.
"Sometimes the truth is more dangerous than the lie," he said. "Be certain you're ready for what you'll uncover."
Emma stepped out into the crisp night air, her thoughts churning. Lawson had been careful not to reveal too much, but his demeanor spoke volumes. He wasn't just a cog in the Devereaux machine—he was a gatekeeper, someone who ensured that their secrets stayed buried.
Her phone buzzed as she walked toward the subway station. It was a message from Lucas.
Lucas: We need to talk. Tonight. It's important.
Emma's fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she replied.
Emma: Where?
His response came quickly.
Lucas: The observatory. Midnight.
Emma frowned. The observatory was a secluded spot on the city's outskirts, far from prying eyes. She wasn't sure if meeting him there was wise, but something told her Lucas had answers she couldn't afford to ignore.
The observatory loomed against the night sky, its dome glowing faintly under the starlight. Emma parked her car and stepped out, the chill in the air biting through her coat. She could see Lucas standing near the entrance, his silhouette sharp against the city lights in the distance.
"You came," he said as she approached.
"You made it sound urgent," Emma replied, crossing her arms. "What's going on?"
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence replaced by a tension she hadn't seen before. "You're getting too close, Emma. My father… he's starting to notice. And trust me, you don't want him noticing you."
"Maybe he should," Emma shot back. "People deserve to know the truth about what he's done."
"You don't understand," Lucas said, his voice rising. "Victor Devereaux isn't just powerful—he's ruthless. If he thinks you're a threat, he won't hesitate to eliminate you."
Emma took a step closer, her gaze steady. "Then why are you helping me? If your father's so dangerous, why not stay out of it?"
Lucas hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Because I can't stand by and watch him destroy more lives. But you need to promise me something."
"What?"
"When things get too dangerous, walk away. Don't try to be a hero, Emma. It's not worth your life."
Emma held his gaze, her resolve unwavering. "I can't make that promise, Lucas. The truth is worth the risk."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words between them. Finally, Lucas sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Then at least let me help you. I'll give you what I can—information, documents, whatever you need. Just promise me you'll be careful."
Emma nodded, the gravity of their alliance settling over her. "Deal."
As they stood under the stars, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that their partnership was a thread pulling them both into an unraveling web. The stakes were higher than ever, and the danger was closing in.