Page 77 of I See You

Braxton leaned forward slightly, trying to act like he had some leverage in this room, but Hassan saw right through the act. “Your name’s all over the paper trail. You moved money for him, laundered it through your businesses.”

That’s when Hassan’s expression changed. Just slightly. Hisgazesharpened,darkened,andwhateverillusionofcontrolBraxton thought he had instantly shattered.

The tension in the room thickened.

Braxton shifted uncomfortably, realizing that coming here alone, without backup, without a plan beyond intimidation, was a dangerous fucking mistake.

Hassan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, studying him like prey. Then, in a tone so low it sent a chill through the air, he spoke.

“Nigga, you better choose your next words real fucking carefully.” Braxton leaned forward, gripping the edges of the file in his hands likeitwashislastlifeline.“Fakerealestatedeals.Casinopayouts thatdon’taddup.Desmond’sdirtymoneyfunneledthroughyour empire. And let’s not forget Roman Evans—I know you two are thick asthieves,”hepressed,hisvoicegaininganedge,tryingtoforce Hassan’s hand.

Hassan didn’t even glance at the documents spread across his desk. He didn’t need to. This was a fishing expedition, nothing more. Braxton was desperate, reaching for leverage he didn’t have. Hassan, on the other hand? He was as unshaken as ever, leaning back in his chair, his posture easy, relaxed.

“Casino payouts?” Hassan repeated, his voice smooth, calculated. “You do know how gambling works, right? People win. People lose. Money moves.” He took a slow drag from his blunt, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he studied Braxton through the haze.

Braxton’s jaw ticked, his patience wearing thin. “And do I fucking look like Roman Evans to you?” Hassan added, his voice dipping into something cold, lethal.

Silence stretched between them, thick and weighted. Hassan could see the tension rippling through Braxton’s body, the way his fingers clenched into tight fists against the table.

Hassan tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his icy blue eyes. “You done?” he asked, stubbing out the roach of his blunt in the crystal ashtray beside him.

Braxton’s nostrils flared, his frustration bubbling over. “You arrogant son of a—”

“Careful.”

The single word fell from Hassan’s lips, cold and sharp as a blade. Braxton’smouthsnappedshut.Hisjawlockedsotightitlooked like it might break. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white.

Hassan? He just smirked.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Braxton bit out, struggling to hold onto the last shred of control he thought he had.

Hassanchuckled,lowandslow,likehehadallthetimeinthe world. “No, you are. Sitting here, hoping I’ll slip. Thinking you’ve got something real. But if you did?” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something almost conversational, almost mocking. “We wouldn’t be talking. You’d be charging.”

The silence between them was deafening. Braxton swallowed hard, the flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He had pieces— but not enough.

Hassan could see it. Could feel it.

And Braxton? He knew it too. His lip curled, bitterness creeping into his expression, but he didn’t say another word.

"You think you’re untouchable, huh? That’s why you’re out parading around with her?" Braxton's voice dripped with bitterness, his words laced with something territorial, something personal.

Hassan barely reacted, though his patience was wearing thin. He was already annoyed that Braxton was still sitting across from him, but now he was talking in circles. "Who?" he asked, his tone void of emotion.

Braxton leaned back, folding his arms, his expression twisting into something uglier than anger. "Don’t play stupid. Sevyn."

The name hit the air between them, heavy, charged. Hassan’s face remained unreadable, but something in him shifted. It was small— unnoticeable to Braxton—but it was there. That alone pissed him off more than anything.

Hassan exhaled sharply, shaking his head before a low chuckle escaped his lips. "So that’s what this is about? A woman?" He eyed Braxton like he was pathetic, like he was wasting his time. "You showing up at my spot, in the middle of the night, talking in riddles over a woman?"

Braxton’s jaw tightened. "She don’t need to be involved with someone like you." He said it like he had a say in the matter, like he was calling shots that had nothing to do with him. Like he still had a claim on her.

Hassan’s amusement faded, his stare turning sharp, lethal. "Unless you got real charges to hit me with, I got better shit to do."

Braxton inhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the desk like it might ground him, but Hassan could see it—he was stuck. He had nothing.

"This ain’t over," Braxton finally said, standing to regain some sense of control.

Hassan stood too, slow, unbothered. A man who knew he was untouchable. "For you? Probably not." His voice was calm, laced with finality. "Now get the fuck out of my office, counselor."

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