“Dependability disappears the moment discipline does,” she replied. “Send me his address.”
Elise blinked. “You want his address.”
“Yes,” Madeline said. “If he is comfortable allowing his personal life to interfere with my company, then I am comfortable understanding why.”
The address arrived minutes later. Cedar Ridge Avenue, Apartment Three B, Millhaven.
Madeline frowned slightly. She had never been to Millhaven, though she knew its reputation well enough. It was not dangerous, but it was forgotten. A place where the roads cracked faster than they were repaired, and where ambition rarely found traction.
She smiled faintly as her driver navigated the city streets, convinced that reality would confirm what she already believed.
The drive took longer than expected, as traffic thinned and buildings lost their polish. Storefronts grew smaller, sidewalks uneven, and children played near chain link fences with bicycles missing paint and dignity.
When the car finally stopped in front of a narrow brick building with peeling trim, Madeline stepped out onto the pavement, her heels clicking sharply against concrete that bore decades of neglect.
The number above the door was crooked.
She knocked.