The call came at 7:42 the following morning.

Ethan was in his hotel room, jacket on, reviewing the revised purchase offer with Marcus, when his phone lit up with a number he didn't recognize.

He answered.

"Mr.

Voss." The voice was smooth, male, practiced.

"My name is Gerald Fitch.

I represent Dennis Doyle in a personal capacity."

"I know who you are," Ethan said.

"You handled the original share transfer six years ago."

A brief pause.

"Then you understand I'm not without resources."

"Tell me what you want, Mr.

Fitch."

"My client is prepared to withdraw all cooperation with the DA's investigation in exchange for a full withdrawal of your purchase offer and a signed agreement that neither you nor any entity associated with you will pursue further legal action against Mr.

Doyle."

Marcus looked up from the documents.

Ethan said nothing.

"Mr.

Voss, my client has significant relationships in this city.

Relationships that extend to planning commissions, licensing boards, and certain financial institutions your hospitality group depends on for operating permits." The voice stayed smooth.

"This doesn't have to become complicated."

"Mr.

Fitch," Ethan said, "your client cannot withdraw cooperation from a criminal investigation he didn't initiate.

The DA received the forgery documentation directly from my legal team.

Mr.

Doyle's cooperation was never part of the equation."

Silence.

"Furthermore," Ethan continued, "the conversation we are currently having is being recorded with your implied consent under applicable state law, and will be forwarded to the DA's office as evidence of attempted interference." He paused.

"Is there anything else?"

The line went dead.

Marcus set down his pen.

"He'll try something else."

"I know." Ethan set the phone on the table.

"What's the status on the share transfer?"

"Doyle's personal attorney — not Fitch, his corporate one — made contact yesterday evening.

They're reviewing the offer.

Given the forgery exposure, they know a courtroom is worse for Doyle than a settlement." Marcus tapped the document.

"I expect acceptance within seventy-two hours."

"And Carol's photos?"

"Authenticated.

The DA's office confirmed this morning.

Combined with the signature analysis, it's a strong case." Marcus paused.

"Ethan.

He's going to try to get to Raymond."

Ethan was already reaching for his phone.

Raymond picked up on the second ring.

"Has anyone contacted you this morning?" Ethan asked.

A pause.

"A man called about an hour ago.

Said he was from a property management company.

Asked if I'd be interested in a buyout offer — a personal one, separate from the business.

Said he could make the debt problem disappear."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him the debt was already gone." A dry pause.

"He didn't seem to know that."

Ethan let out a slow breath.

"He'll try again," he said.

"In person, probably.

Don't sign anything.

Don't let anyone into the diner who isn't staff or a regular customer.

If Doyle himself shows up —"

"I've known Dennis Doyle for fifteen years," Raymond said.

"I know exactly what he looks like when he wants something." A pause.

"I also know what it looks like when a man is losing."

"You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm making soup stock and I have Carol here and two line cooks who are apparently willing to be very unhelpful to strangers." A small sound that might have been a laugh.

"I'm fine, Ethan."

Ethan ended the call and stood at the window for a moment, looking down at the street below.

Marcus gathered the documents.

"There's one more thing.

The original loan documentation — the forged refinancing.

We traced where the funds went."

Ethan turned.

"Doyle didn't pocket it," Marcus said.

"He used it to cover losses from a separate business venture.

A restaurant group he invested in three years ago.

It failed.

He needed the cash to cover his personal guarantees." He set a single page on the table.

"He was desperate when he did it.

That doesn't make it legal.

But it means he wasn't operating from a position of strength — he was operating from panic."

Ethan looked at the page.

"It also means," Marcus said carefully, "that he may have done the same thing elsewhere.

We're looking."

Ethan picked up the page.

He read it once, set it down.

"Find out," he said.

His phone lit up again.

Unknown number.

Different one this time.

He answered.

"Mr.

Voss." Doyle's voice.

No lawyer, no intermediary.

Raw and direct in a way Fitch's call hadn't been.

"I want to meet.

Just the two of us.

No lawyers, no recordings.

I want to talk to you like a man."

Ethan looked at Marcus.

Marcus shook his head slowly.

"Name the place," Ethan said.