Too Late to Hold Me Back novel Chapter 1110

The interior decor wasn't overtly ostentatious, but every piece screamed quiet wealth. The furniture prioritized absolute comfort, and the limited-edition accents perfectly matched Jason's refined tastes.

The meals were meticulously curated for optimal health, served on impeccably pristine dinnerware.

By the time Amy helped him freshen up, the staff had already arranged a sprawling spread on the dining table.

Her role now was to serve—ladling his soup, shelling his shrimp, cracking the crab legs, and taste-testing the seasoning. If a single dish missed the mark, it had to be remade instantly under a strict time limit.

Naturally, his private chef was world-class.

Amy wasn't his only mistress, but she was undoubtedly the most efficient.

Jason despised flashy displays of wealth, but that didn't mean he deprived himself of life's luxuries.

Money was meant to be spent. His low profile was merely a shield to protect his privacy, deter kidnappers, and eliminate unnecessary headaches.

After dinner, Jason retreated to his study. Amy thoughtfully brought in a tray of fresh fruit and a drink before quietly slipping out, closing the door behind her.

By now, the sting of the day's failure had faded, and his sharp mind was already calculating his next move.

He was a professional, a world-renowned financier. He built his empire on the markets, and he wouldn't let the markets break him. No, he hadn't lost. He was Jason Croft—the most powerful and influential voice among the international syndicates.

He was far too deeply rooted to be washed away that easily.

He had merely weathered another brutal storm. As a titan of industry, he possessed a resilience that ordinary men couldn't fathom.

Steadying his breathing, Jason picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number. "James. Where are you right now?"

"Ah, Jason, my friend. It's been too long.

I'm still trapped in the Balkan Underworld. You saw the news, right? The entire sector was raided a while back. The compounds, the illicit clinics, the cartel labs—every black-market operation was wiped off the map.

Even the kingpins vanished without a trace, and there's still been zero word on their whereabouts."

It was a necessary firewall against retaliation from cartel remnants.

But that was old news. Back on the line, James was still spinning his web of lies.

"My banks—our branches down here—took some heavy collateral damage. I've had to stay on the ground to personally manage the fallout.

I'm devastated I had to miss out on your operation.

How did the play go, Jason? I assume it was a bloodbath? You must be swimming in profits.

God, I'm so jealous!

I'll wrap things up here as fast as humanly possible. Count me in for the next round."

If Mira and her team had been in the room, they would have handed him an Oscar. In truth, they had vastly underestimated James's flair for the dramatic.