The air inside the cold storage room was bitter and heavy, but the frost clinging to the steel shelves was nothing compared to the ice in Mason Vance’s chest.

At seven o'clock the following evening, the private dining room of the Grand Crest Hotel was lit by crystal chandeliers and dressed in white silk tablecloths.

Richard Sterling swept into the room wearing an Italian tailor-made suit, a gold Rolex gleaming on his wrist. He looked every bit the wealthy, confident executive—until he saw Mason Vance sitting alone at the end of the long mahogany table.

"Mason!" Richard exclaimed, forcing a bright, cheerful smile, though his eyes darted nervously around the empty room. "What a surprise! Arthur called me late last night and said you were in town. You should have let me know! I would have arranged a proper welcome reception!"

"Sit down, Richard," Mason said quietly, gesturing to the seat across from him.

Richard hesitated, his smile faltering slightly, but sat down. "Is everything okay? I heard some strange rumors that you suspended Brandon Cole and brought in auditors?"

"The auditors are almost finished," Mason replied calmly, pouring two glasses of dark red wine. "They’ve been working for twenty-four hours straight."

Richard swallowed hard, his collar suddenly looking a little too tight. "Look, Mason... if Brandon was cutting corners in the kitchen, I assure you I had no idea. You know how chefs are—temperamental, greedy—"

"Try the ricotta, Richard," Mason interrupted, pushing a small porcelain bowl toward him.

Richard blinked. "What?"

"Try the ricotta," Mason repeated. "It’s freshly made. Tell me what you think."

Richard picked up a silver spoon with a trembling hand, scooped a small portion of the white cheese, and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his face turning pale.

"It... it tastes cheap," Richard muttered. "A bit sour."

"That's because it costs three dollars a bucket," Mason said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Yet according to Southern Apex Culinary Supplies, you charged my company forty-two dollars for it."

Richard dropped the spoon. It hit the porcelain bowl with a sharp clink that sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.

"Mason... I can explain—"

"Four point two million dollars, Richard," Mason said, his voice dropping into an icy register. "Over four years. You bought rotten meat, expired dairy, and chemical-laden produce. You fed it to families, to brides at their wedding receptions, to children celebrating birthdays."

"It was just business!" Richard blurted out, his calm facade shattering completely. "The profit margins you demanded were too high! We had to make up the numbers somehow!"

"Don't you dare lay your greed at my feet!" Mason slammed his hand onto the table, making the wine glasses ring. "I paid you five hundred thousand dollars a year to run this region with honor! But worse than the money, Richard... worse than the four million dollars... is what you did to Joanne Parker."

Richard froze. The name hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"You framed a hardworking mother," Mason continued, his eyes burning with righteous fury. "You forged security footage. You threatened to take her daughter away. You drove her into a stroke with your terror tactics, and then you used my name to convince her that no one would ever help her."

"She was a nobody!" Richard spat, his face twisting with ugilness as he realized he was trapped. "She was a three-dollar-an-hour line cook! Who cares about her?!"

The heavy doors of the private dining room swung open.

Two San Antonio police detectives, accompanied by Victoria Brooks and two uniformed officers, stepped into the room.

"Richard Sterling," Detective Ramirez announced, holding up a paper. "You are under arrest for grand larceny, commercial bribery, fraud, and corporate extortion."

Richard stood up frantically, backing away toward the window. "Mason! Think about the reputation of the hotel! If this goes to trial, the press will destroy the Vance brand!"

Mason stood up slowly, looking down at his former friend with utter contempt.