Meanwhile, a few minutes earlier.
Karen stood near the far end of the hall, laughter slipping easily from her lips as she listened to a man at her side speak about international trade routes and golf courses in Monaco. Mr. Frederick looked like every bit the seasoned investor—mid-fifties, expensive suit stretched neatly over a softened frame, thinning hair polished by the chandelier light, confidence built from decades of profitable decisions.
"And the Asian markets," he was saying, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "are nothing if not predictable when you know where to look."
Karen tilted her head slightly, smiling up at him. "You make it sound effortless."
"It is," he replied with a small, indulgent chuckle. "For those of us who understand the patterns."
She laughed softly, her fingertips grazing his sleeve as though by accident. "You're so intelligent, Mr. Frederick."
