Daniel’s POV

The sign of La Cour Royale flickered as Marcus and I stepped inside, shaking off the late August drizzle.

The place was my sanctuary with dim lights, jazz songs humming low, the scent of garlic and red wine promising a fine dining.

Marcus, my best friend since college, was already yapping about some crypto scheme he swore would make us millionaires.

I rolled my eyes, half-listening, as the hostess led us to my favorite corner booth, tucked away from the normal ...