Chapter 61

At the Mystic Cube, Killian sat across from Clifford. It was just the two of them tonight.

The table, however, was crowded with bottles. Music videos played on the widescreen in silence, creating a stark contrast to the thumping bass from the club outside. The private room felt unusually cold.

Killian poured himself a drink and downed it in one go, immediately followed by a second, and then a third.

Clifford said nothing. He leaned back against the sofa, legs crossed, lazily fiddling with a lighter in the hand draped over the backrest. He just watched.

The three shots of vodka, taken too quickly, made Killian choke back a cough, and a flush crept up his face. He finally met Clifford's gaze. “Clifford, we need to talk."

"About what?" Clifford asked, his voice casual.

"About Nikita."

A ghost of a smile touched Clifford's lips. “She's your sister. Are you sure you're talking to the right person?"

"There's no one else here, so let's drop the act. Nikita has learned her lesson. I guarantee she'll stay away from Latisha from now on. I'm here to apologize on her behalf for what she did. I'm asking you to let this go before it gets any worse."

Clifford watched him, the smile on his face unreadable. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "Do you really think this will all end if I back off?"

Killian's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Killian, for someone who's been in the business world for so long, you should know what happens when someone is down. Everyone wants to give them another kick."

The color drained from Killian's face. Of course, he knew. There were no real friends in business, only sharks circling, waiting for a drop of blood in the water. The ones stronger than you feared you'd catch up, and the ones weaker than you prayed for your downfall. When you stumbled, they'd all rush to stomp you into the ground and laugh while they did it.

It was just human nature.

Clifford tilted his head and lit a cigarette, the flame flickering across his cold, indifferent features. His voice was devoid of warmth. "All did was light a match The fire spread on its owYou've come to the wrong person, Killian."

Killian's face was grim, and he remained silent.

As one music video ended and the screen went black before the next one started, plunging the room into momentary darkness, Killian spoke if that

again You're the one who te

match. They only dared to add fuel to the fire because you led the way. I came to the ringleader. I haven't made a mistake."

"Killian, have you heard of the snowball effect? Once it starts rolling and gets big enough, not even the person who gave the first push can stop it."

Clifford's stance was clear. He wasn't going to stop. He wasn't a man who acted rashly, but when he did, he showed no mercy.

Killian had known him long enough to be certain of that.

"Clifford, we're both businessmen," Killian said with a sigh. Since appealing to their history was useless, he had to appeal to his wallet. “And businessmen don't turn their backs on money. Name your price."

Smoke curled from Clifford's fingertips. He mulled it over for a moment before speaking. "The Stafford family has extensive operations in Africa, correct?"

"Yes, it's one of our primary markets,” Killian confirmed, frowning. "What are you planning?"

Clifford's tone was flat. "Several countries there are blocking my company's shipments. You'll handle it."

The Lambert Group owned a

massive global logistics company with a network that spanned the globe, but there were still corners of the world it couldn't easily reach. Resolving this issue himself would be a headache, but for Killian, whose family's corporation held significant influence in the region, it would be much simpler.

“That shouldn't be a problem,” Killian nodded. “Is that all?”

A smirk played on Clifford's lips. “Get it done first. We'll talk after."