Page 20 of Deadly Legacy
It was nothing ostentatious, just the cool certainty that should anything be required, it would materialize before the need was even formed.
Seven o’clock. He’ll be here any second.
The door opened with a soft chime, and Reuben’s spine straightened, muscle memory from years of his father’s criticism about his posture. Wallace Hoyt entered the restaurant, his steps measured and deliberate, as though expecting the world to pause and take notice.
For a moment, Reuben saw his father through a stranger’s eyes; impressive, commanding, and every silver hair perfectly in place. Then Wallace spotted him, and Reuben caught the momentary falter in his step, the slight narrowing of green eyes so similar to Reuben’s own.
He expected to find me desperate. Grateful for the attention.
Wallace approached the table, extending his hand. “You’re looking well, son.”
“I’m not your son.” Reuben shook the offered hand, the words emerging without heat. Simple fact. “Not since you made that explicitly clear my senior year.”
Wallace’s mouth tightened as he took the seat opposite. “I see your talent for directness hasn’t diminished.”
“One of many talents you overlooked.” Reuben raised his glass in mock toast, still not drinking. “Along with my ‘surprising’ financial acumen.”
Wallace unbuttoned his suit jacket as he settled into his chair. “Matthew Capital has made quite the splash. Though I suppose with the rightbacking, anyone can make a name for themselves.”
Reuben caught the subtle emphasis on ‘backing,’ filed it away. “We’ve been fortunate in our investors and partnerships.”
“And also fortunate in avoiding certain regulatory scrutiny.” Wallace’s voice dropped an octave.
The clink of silverware from a nearby table punctuated the silence between them. Reuben inhaled slowly through his nose.
“If you’re suggesting any impropriety in our operations, perhaps we should end this dinner now.” Reuben’s fingers remained steady on his glass stem, but his other hand curled slightly against his thigh, hidden by the tablecloth.
“Not at all.” Wallace backpedaled, his hands lifting in a placating gesture. “Merely an observation.”
The waiter appeared with perfect timing, taking Wallace’s drink order. When he departed, Wallace leaned forward. “You know, I saw your mother, Charlotte, at a gala recently.”
Charlotte.The name landed between them like a heavy stone. The woman who’d traded both son and ex-husbandfor social standing, who’d dismissed Reuben’s sexuality as ‘inconvenient’for her new husband’s political ambitions.
“She asked after you.” Wallace’s lips curved in what might pass for a smile to anyone who didn’t know him better.
A lie.His mother hadn’t asked about him in years.
“I very much doubt that.” Reuben swirled the wine he still hadn’t tasted, watching the burgundy liquid cling to the glass. “Mother made her choices clear when she left. Just like you did when you cut me off.”
Wallace’s face tensed, a flicker of discomfort that vanished so quickly Reuben might have missed it if he hadn’t spent years reading people across poker tables.
“Of course. Ancient history,” Wallace said, taking the scotch the waiter had set before him. He sipped it, then frowned. “This is not properly aged.”
Same old Wallace—nothing ever quite good enough.
“So what brings you to reach out after all this time?” Reuben shifted in his chair, angling for a better view of the bar where he knew Nikon was watching. “Surely not familial warmth.”
Wallace swirled the amber liquid in his glass, ice cubes clinking softly. “I’ve been following your career trajectory. Impressive pivot from academia to venture capital.”
“After your blacklisting efforts closed traditional finance doors.”
“It was a necessary lesson in consequences, I should think.” Wallace’s fingers tightened around his glass. “Though I admit, you’ve shown some remarkable... adaptability.”
The corner of Reuben’s mouth twitched upward. “I simply learned to play the hand I was dealt.”
“Ah yes, your poker phase.” Wallace’s tone suggested discussing a teenager’s rebellion. “Though your current associates seem a little more permanent than those gambling connections.”
Reuben’s pulse quickened. He smoothed his tie, feeling the silk cool against his fingertips. “This city’s financial world is smaller than it appears.”
