A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 152

The sudden glow of his phone screen jolted Tyson out of his daydream.

He glanced down to see a message from Mr. Jackson's assistant.

"Tomorrow, 3 p.m. The Lunar Lounge."

That was it—nothing more. Yet the message sent a thrill through Tyson's chest.

Mr. Jackson had agreed to meet him.

Good. He'd finally have someone on his side.

Tyson's eyes hardened as he stared in the direction where Elvis's car had just disappeared.

Elvis, I'll see to it that you lose everything—your reputation, your name. Let's see what you have left to fight me for Nona when I'm done with you.

***

Although the meeting was set for three o'clock, Tyson arrived at The Lunar Lounge over half an hour early the next day.

The place was an upscale tea lounge—quiet, private, and impeccably refined.

The moment Tyson gave his name at the entrance, a server led him with deference up to a private suite on the third floor.

"Our other guest hasn't arrived yet, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Tyson nodded, his fingertips tapping lightly on the polished mahogany table.

The suite was tastefully furnished, the atmosphere serene. But it did nothing to quell the anxiety simmering inside him.

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to settle down. The last thing he wanted was to look flustered in front of Mr. Jackson.

But three o'clock came and went. No one entered.

Tyson frowned, checking the time. He considered messaging Mr. Jackson's assistant to ask what was going on, but then thought better of it.

He needed the Quincys' support right now—no sense in offending anyone over a minor delay.

He'd seen Mr. Jackson before—only once, at a business gala where they hadn't even spoken—but he remembered the man's face clearly.

This wasn't him.

It took Tyson a moment, but recognition dawned.

This was Jude Quincy—the youngest son of the Quincy family. He'd seen Jude's photo in the news once, after a reckless street race had landed an innocent driver in the hospital. The story had made headlines; apparently, the Quincys had paid handsomely to smooth things over. Thankfully, the driver had survived, though he'd been seriously injured.

Tyson had arranged to meet Mr. Jackson. So why was Jude here?

Jude strolled into the suite and dropped into a chair, eyeing Tyson with a smirk.

"What's wrong? You look disappointed to see me, Mr. Goodwin."

"Why would I be, Mr. Quincy?" Tyson managed a stiff smile. "I just thought I was meeting Mr. Jackson today."

"So, you think I'm not good enough, is that it?" Jude's laugh was cold. "Turns out Mr. Goodwin doesn't think much of me after all."