The conference room on the forty-second floor of the new Blackwood Hotel overlooked the frozen Chicago skyline.

The space was all glass and dark wood, sleek and imposing—just like the man at the head of the table.

Roman Blackwood leaned back in his chair, his hands loosely clasped, a faint, genuine smile on his face for the first time in days.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Cross Corp chose to partner with us on this,” he said, voice smooth and confident. “Giving Blackwood Hotels this opportunity—it means more than I can say.”

Damien Cross, the younger brother, nodded with an approving smile. “You earned it, Roman....