Before the call could end, the screen changed, and a text message popped up.

I read the words on the screen, the breath catching in my throat.

The text on the small screen was short.

“I know what you are doing to my accounts. Stop it, and I will tell you what you want.”

Liam took the phone from my hand.

He stared at the glowing blue screen for a long moment, his jaw tight.

“It is Darrow,” Liam said.

He tapped the screen, dialled the number back, and put it on speaker.

The call connected on the first ring, the sound of heavy breathing coming through the tiny speaker.

“Vance,” Darrow’s voice was shaky, stripped of its usual confidence. “My maritime lines are locked at the customs dock. You did this.”

“I did,” Liam said, his voice flat and cold.

“You are ruining me,” Darrow hissed. “I have three cargo ships sitting in the harbor, costing me fifty thousand dollars a day.”

“Then you should start talking,” Liam said. “Tell me about the charity hall.”