Free Web NovelChapter 148: The Winter Table
[Jake’s POV]
Martin Hale gave us the first real shape of Isabella’s pressure network before Evelyn Cross took him away.
Not the full picture. Men like Martin never had the full picture. They were given one locked door, one number to call, one threat sharp enough to keep them obedient. But fear made people careless, and by the time he finished shaking in the back of the SUV, Claire had seven names, two private dinner locations, and a phrase that made everyone in the car go quiet.
The Winter Table.
It sounded harmless. Almost elegant. The kind of name rich people gave to private charity circles so they could gossip over wine and call it philanthropy. But the way Martin said it, with his voice trembling and his eyes fixed on the floor, told me it was something else. Not a company. Not a board. A room. A circle. A place where the women attached to powerful men traded information those men were arrogant enough to leave unguarded. freёwebnovel.com
By the time we returned to Apex Tower, Nia already had the first traces on the wall screen. She stood in the operations room with her sleeves pushed up, hair coming loose from her messy bun, one hand flying over the keyboard while the other held a coffee she had clearly forgotten to drink. Cassandra sat beside her in the oversized grey sweater, knees tucked up on the chair, staring at the connection map like it was a puzzle box whispering insults at her.
"The Winter Table meets once a month," Nia said as we entered. "Private salons, rotating locations, no formal membership list, and absolutely no public photographs. Which means, naturally, every single person involved thinks they are subtle."
Ethan lowered himself onto the couch with a groan. "Are they?"
"No," Nia said. "They use the same florists."
Claire moved to the screen, her eyes narrowing. "Florists?"
Nia tapped a key. Six names appeared, tied together by soft red lines. "Same floral designer, same private caterer, same rotating security contractor. They hide the guest lists, but rich people are creatures of habit. You can erase emails, but apparently you cannot resist imported white roses."
Cassandra leaned closer, her voice soft. "They also use the same seating pattern."
Everyone looked at her.
She immediately pulled her sleeves over her hands, but kept going. "Sorry. It’s just... the names we found from Martin’s phone keep appearing in pairs. Wife beside donor. Mistress beside banker. Widow beside regulator. It is arranged to make people talk to the person they think is safest."
"That is not a dinner," Victoria said from the doorway. "That is an information trap."
She walked in wearing a black suit and carrying another folder, because Victoria Sterling apparently slept in board reports and woke up angry at spreadsheets. She placed the folder on the table in front of me and opened it to a printed photograph.
A woman in her late forties smiled from the page. Dark blonde hair. Black gloves. A soft, elegant face that looked warm until you studied the eyes.
Margot Delacroix.
"Her face finally cleared on one of the club cameras," Victoria said. "She left the Lennox Club seventeen minutes after the alley incident. Different exit. Different coat. Same gloves."
"She saw enough," Claire said.
"Good," I replied.
Claire looked at me. "Good?"
"If she saw enough, she knows Martin is gone. She knows Richard is gone. She knows Marianne is no longer quiet. That means she has to check the Winter Table before we do."
Nia looked over her shoulder. "You keep saying things like that and then getting shot at."
"I have been shot at long before I said things like that."
"That is not comforting." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
Darius entered last, dragging a chair out with one hand before sitting down opposite me. "The shooter from the alley is alive."
"Talkative?"
"Not yet."
"Make him comfortable."
Darius stared at me.
"Fine. Make him nervous."
"That I can do."
A blue screen flickered in front of my eyes.
[Ding!]
[Mission Chain Updated!]
Mission Chain: The Winter Table
Objective: Enter the social circle behind Isabella’s pressure network.
Current Lead: Margot Delacroix.
Reward: Hidden Influence Route.
Penalty: To be determined.
I stared at the last line.
The System always sounded happiest when it had not decided how to ruin my day yet.
Another notification appeared.
[New Mission Generated!]
Mission: Secure an Invitation
Objective: Obtain access to the next Winter Table gathering without violence, bribery, or buying the building.]
Reward: Social Route Unlocked.]
Penalty: Host will hiccup during next compliment.]
I closed my eyes.
Claire noticed immediately.
"What now?"
"Nothing."
"That means something."
"It means I am being spiritually harassed."
Ethan raised a hand weakly from the couch. "I vote we add that to the medical chart."
Nia pointed at him. "You are still on soup and silence."
"I finished the soup."
"Then just silence."
Victoria ignored all of us and tapped the folder. "The next Winter Table gathering is tomorrow night. Private townhouse on East Seventy-Third. Host is Aurelia Bancroft."
Claire’s expression changed. "Aurelia Bancroft?"
"You know her?" I asked.
"Everyone in that world knows her. She is married to Charles Bancroft, one of the board advisors tied to Isabella’s European estate structures. Publicly, she is a patron of the arts. Privately, she decides who gets invited into rooms their husbands pretend they control."
"That sounds promising."
"It sounds dangerous," Claire said. "Aurelia is not lonely in the obvious way. She gets bored, and bored women with money are worse than armed men because they think consequences are a form of entertainment."
Ethan looked at me. "So naturally, Jake is going."
"Obviously," I said.
Claire sighed. "You do not even have an invitation."
"Marianne does."
Victoria shook her head. "Marianne can get you near the door, not through it. The Winter Table does not allow unapproved men inside the main salon. Husbands wait downstairs, drivers wait outside, and everyone else pretends it is a charity committee."
"So I need Aurelia to invite me personally."
"Exactly."
The System chimed.
[Target Detected!]
Target: Aurelia Bancroft
Age: 45
Status: Married
Affiliation: Winter Table / Bancroft Household
Strategic Value: High
Mission: Impress the Gatekeeper
Objective: Earn Aurelia Bancroft’s personal invitation.
Reward: Entry to Winter Table.
Penalty: Host will hiccup during next compliment.]
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
"Of course," I muttered.
Claire’s eyes narrowed. "Of course what?"
"Nothing."
"You keep saying nothing."
"It keeps being accurate from a certain perspective."
Nia leaned back in her chair. "I hate that sentence."
Victoria slid another page across the table. "Aurelia attends a private preview at the Calder Gallery tonight. Small crowd. Art patrons, collectors, and people who use the word ’texture’ incorrectly."
"That sounds like hell."
Claire looked at me. "You once called a sculpture a bent chair."
"It was bent."
"It was grief in bronze."
"It was a chair."
Cassandra made a tiny sound into her sleeve.
I turned toward her. "Was that a laugh?"
She immediately looked down. "No."
"It was."
"No."
Nia patted her shoulder. "Growth."
For a moment, the room felt almost normal again.
Then Marianne Bellamy entered.
She looked composed, but there was a new hardness in her eyes. She had changed into a dark dress and simple coat, and her auburn hair was tied back neatly. The woman who had walked into the museum that morning had been cautious. The woman who stood in the operations room now looked like she had found something sharper than grief.
"You are going after Aurelia," she said.
"Planning to."
"She likes honesty, but only when it costs the person speaking."
Claire looked at her. "You have met her?"
"Many times. She collects secrets the way other women collect jewelry." Marianne stepped closer to the table and looked at Aurelia’s photograph. "Do not flatter her beauty. Everyone does. Do not flatter her taste. She knows better. Flatter her boredom."
Ethan sat up slightly. "How do you flatter boredom?"
Marianne glanced at him. "By being interesting without asking for permission."
I smiled.
Marianne looked back at me. "And do not mention Charles unless she does first."
"Bad marriage?"
"Worse. Functional marriage."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It is. They do not love each other enough to fight, and they do not hate each other enough to divorce. It makes them efficient."
Nia grimaced. "Rich people are depressing."
"You are rich too," Victoria said.
"Do i look exciting to you?."
Claire crossed her arms, still studying Aurelia’s file. "The gallery preview starts at seven. Jake goes in alone."
Ethan frowned. "Why alone?"
"Because if he arrives with security, he looks like a wounded king trying to prove he survived. If he arrives with me, Aurelia will assume he is being managed. If he arrives alone, he looks either brave or stupid."
I adjusted my cuff. "I can do both."
Claire did not smile. "That is what worries me."
The room settled into preparation after that. Victoria handled the gallery access through a donor route. Nia scrubbed my arrival from the usual public feeds. Cassandra quietly built a profile of Aurelia from old seating charts and charity photos. Darius objected to every plan that did not involve him standing within arm’s reach of me. Ethan fell asleep halfway through an argument and denied it when he woke up.
By six-thirty, I was in a dark suit again, standing in front of the mirror in my office.
The man staring back at me looked better than he felt. Clean shirt. Sharp jacket. Bruising hidden beneath careful lighting and expensive tailoring. The kind of man who could walk into a gallery and convince strangers he had not been bleeding in alleys a few hours earlier.
Claire stood near the door, holding the final file.
"She will test you," she said.
"I know."
"No, Jake. She will try to find out whether the stories are true. Whether you are unstable. Whether you are still useful. Whether you are still dangerous."
I turned from the mirror. "And what do you think?"
She held my gaze.
"I think you are tired."
"That was not one of the options."
"It is the only one that matters."
The System appeared.
[Ding!]
[Mission Reminder: Impress the Gatekeeper.]
Penalty Active: Host will hiccup during next compliment.]
I looked at Claire.
Then at the screen.
Then back at Claire.
She frowned. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Jake."
"You look..." I stopped.
Dangerous ground.
The System waited.
Claire’s eyebrow rose.
I cleared my throat. "Prepared."
She stared at me.
"Prepared?"
"Yes."
"That was the compliment?"
"I am trying to survive."
For the first time that evening, she laughed.
Softly.
Briefly.
But real.
I smiled and walked past her toward the elevator before the System could punish me for enjoying it.
The Calder Gallery was waiting. Aurelia Bancroft was waiting. Somewhere behind her, Margot Delacroix and the Winter Table were tightening their gloves around Isabella’s secrets.
I stepped into the elevator alone.
Back to basics.
