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Catherine ended the call without a second thought, her face impassive as she moved toward her wardrobe. She knew exactly what needed to be done and didn’t require any backup for this mission. Joseph was a small problem that would be handled swiftly—she had more important things on her mind than worrying about Ronin’s excitement.
Her mind drifted briefly to Korbin’s earlier inquiry. The curiosity in his eyes had been almost too much to ignore. But Catherine had always been adept at controlling her image, revealing only what she chose. Korbin’s probing would be met with silence if it threatened to reveal anything unnecessary. There was no room for mistakes, not when the stakes were so high.
She quickly changed into something more suitable for the evening—dark, sleek, and unremarkable. The kind of attire that allowed her to blend in, to disappear into the background. She wasn’t concerned with appearances tonight. Only results.
As she prepared to leave, her thoughts returned to Mr. David, the odd meeting earlier, and the strange feeling that had washed over her as they talked. His admiration was palpable, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface. His respect for her was not entirely professional; he wasn’t just fascinated by her business acumen. Catherine had an innate sense of when people were intrigued by her for reasons that extended beyond their initial interactions. Mr. David’s interest was no coincidence.
But that would have to wait. Joseph needed to be dealt with first.
The evening had already taken a strange turn, and Catherine was ready to steer it in the direction she wanted. She slipped out of the house quietly, making sure not to attract any attention from the Swanns, who were still buzzing with confusion about the events earlier.
The drive to Casier was short, but Catherine’s mind was already elsewhere. She’d done her homework on Joseph, and there was no question about how she’d handle him. His betrayal wouldn’t be tolerated—no matter how small his role had been in the larger game.
At Charm Bar, the dimly lit ambiance and the low hum of conversation served as the perfect cover for her entrance. She’d been here before, under different circumstances, but tonight it felt different. More dangerous. She surveyed the room for any sign of Joseph. Ronin’s surveillance was good, but it was only a matter of time before he’d slip up. That’s when Catherine would step in.
She moved through the crowd like a shadow, unnoticed by the patrons who were busy with their own lives, oblivious to the high-stakes drama unfolding around them.
It wasn’t long before she spotted him—Joseph was easy enough to recognize, sitting at a table near the back. He was talking to a man Catherine didn’t recognize, his face drawn in an expression of unease that didn’t belong to someone accustomed to working with people in the shadows.
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. She moved closer, but just out of earshot, positioning herself to observe. Joseph’s body language was all wrong. He was fidgeting with his drink, looking around nervously as if expecting someone to appear at any moment. The man with him—a stranger—was speaking with low, urgent tones, trying to coax something from Joseph. It didn’t take long for Catherine to piece together that Joseph had sold the chip.
Her suspicion was confirmed when Joseph handed over a small, discreet package to the man, who took it quickly, disappearing into the crowd before Catherine could act.
This was it.
Her expression remained stoic as she made her way toward Joseph’s table. His eyes flicked to her in shock when she suddenly appeared beside him, and for a moment, the color drained from his face. The man he had been speaking to had already vanished into the crowd, but that didn’t matter now.
Catherine’s gaze was unflinching as she locked eyes with him. “I hope you enjoyed your little transaction,” she said coolly, her voice low enough for only him to hear.
Joseph’s hand instinctively reached for his coat pocket, but he froze, realizing far too late that there was nowhere to run. His throat constricted, but his words came out in a frantic rush. “I—I didn’t think you’d find out! Please, I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m not interested in excuses,” Catherine cut him off sharply. She motioned to the waiter nearby. “Take him to the back. Now.”
The waiter, clearly uncomfortable but trained to obey, hesitated only a moment before nodding and leading Joseph away. Catherine followed them with measured steps, her mind already calculating the next phase of this little operation.
No one got away from her. Not Joseph, not anyone.