The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 1039

Finally, the hard, rigid lines of Mr. Larson's jaw relaxed, and a profound sense of satisfaction settled in his eyes.

"Good," he rasped, his voice rough but clear. "I believe you."

He reached out, his hand clamping down hard on Callahan's wrist with solemn, heavy finality.

"That girl is fiercely loyal. You give her an ounce of love, and she'll give you a pound in return."

"From now on... you take good care of her."

"I will," Callahan promised, flipping his hand to firmly grip the trembling fingers. The frailness of the older man's grip sent a pang through his chest. He leaned in slightly, ensuring they were completely eye-to-eye. "You have my absolute word."

...

The five-day deadline had arrived.

Fitch Sherwood was sitting at the agreed-upon location, waiting for Talbot Langley to officially sell the remaining shares of the Sloan Group.

It was mid-afternoon on the fifth day.

Inside a private VIP lounge at Blue Bank Café downtown, Fitch aggressively adjusted his tie for the third time.

He had deliberately arrived an hour early, securing the most secluded booth in the back. His fingers drummed a frantic, erratic beat against the mahogany table.

When the waiter entered to clear the table, he noticed the expensive black coffee in front of the guest was completely untouched, though a napkin had been nervously shredded into pieces.

"Sir, can I get you anything else?" the waiter asked cautiously.

This Mr. Sherwood had been sitting alone for over an hour, and there was no sign of his guest. He looked like a ticking time bomb. The staff was starting to wonder if he'd been stood up.

Fitch snapped out of his daze and waved him off aggressively.

"No. Get out."

"And don't come back in unless I call for you."

He was already on edge, and the interruption only spiked his adrenaline. His eyes darted from his luxury watch to the heavy oak door.

His mind was racing.

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