Chapter 287 The Dictator's Table

• "That lobster roll was something else," Charles Wheeler said, settling deeper into his high-backed chair with a contented grin that lit up his whole face.
• "I mean it. It was fresh, buttery, with that perfect crunch from the toasted bun. And don't get me started on the barbecue ribs. It was smoky, tender, and the sauce had just enough tang to make you want more. Whoever catered this knows their craft. Introduce me to your chef, I'm taking them to DC."
• Victor Cromwell watched him laugh from across the expansive conference table. The elite presidential conference room was a fortress of luxury, with thick carpets, walls lined with portraits of past leaders, and a massive window overlooking the plaza, where the festivities still sounded faintly in the distance.