Chapter 100 Queens And Pawns
The Ivory Room at the Drake lived up to its name, all cream and gold like heaven's waiting room. Helena King sat like she owned not just the chair, but the whole damn city – which, depending on who you asked, wasn't far from truth.
Maria watched Chicago's queen mother reading between every calculated tea-stirring movement. Three sugars. No cream. The detective had watched her make the same drink a hundred times over three years of playing spy in her son's empire.
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