Chapter 87 Davon

• DAVON
• “Cut the sentimental bullshit and give me the numbers,” I say, my voice slicing through the room, edged with irritation. We’re in my office inside the estate. The long table is crowded with reports and bank statements. Breakfast this morning was a mess because that bastard jumped to a rival family and did it cleanly. The look on Samantha’s face after I handled him didn’t help. She’s still new to this life; I don’t blame her for being rattled. But being my wife means she must face all of it — the beauty, the privilege, and the moments when loyalty must be backed by steel.
• Brad’s hand freezes mid-gesture, the unlit cigarette balanced between his fingers hovering above a neat stack of papers. His sharp blue eyes flick to me, narrowing slightly, then he leans back with careful calm. “Four million,” he says flatly, “lost last quarter. At least half of that’s on the Griss interference.”