Chapter 54: The Deception And The Disappointment

"I’m the family disappointment," Bob said, removing his mask and running a hand through his hair.

"Father wanted a mini-Bernard—ruthless, ambitious, obsessed with acquisition. Instead, he got me."

Kane leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze cool his flushed face. "And what exactly are you?"

"A marine biologist who’d rather study coral reefs than corporate raiders." Bob’s smile turned wistful.

"I fund conservation projects with my trust fund. Father thinks it’s a phase."

Kane removed his own mask, studying Bob with new interest. "So why stay in his orbit?"

"Family’s complicated." Bob shrugged. "Plus, someone needs to be the voice of reason when he gets fixated on his collections."

"Like the Chalice?" Kane asked, trying to sound casual.

Bob’s expression shifted, surprise followed by wariness.

"Some things shouldn’t be collected," Bob murmured, gazing out at the dark water.

"Especially when you don’t understand what you’re dealing with."

Kane kept his expression neutral but mentally filed away Bob’s reaction.

The man definitely knew more about the Chalice than he was letting on.

Something in his tone—that subtle shift from carefree to cautious—spoke volumes.

"So how’d you end up working for the infamous Cyrus Veyr?" Bob asked, clearly eager to change subjects.

"You don’t seem like the typical corporate drone."

Kane laughed, crafting his cover story with just enough truth to make it believable.

"Pure chance, really. I was between jobs after leaving the Bureau of—" he caught himself, "—Bureau of Statistics. Numbers weren’t exactly my passion."

"And Cyrus just hired you? Just like that?" Bob raised an eyebrow.

"I happened to be in the right place when he needed someone who thinks differently." Kane shrugged.

"Sometimes the universe throws people together for reasons we don’t understand."

That much, at least, wasn’t a lie.

Bob nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Well, you two make an interesting pair. He’s so..." he gestured vaguely, "intense. And you’re..."

"A disaster with good hair?" Kane offered.

"I was going to say refreshingly charming."

Bob suddenly leaned in closer, his face inches from Kane’s.

Kane’s breath caught, thinking for a moment Bob might kiss him—but instead, Bob gently pressed his palm to Kane’s forehead.

"Still feeling okay? I feel terrible about the heatstroke thing." His eyes crinkled with genuine concern.

"I should’ve noticed you were overheating sooner."

Kane exhaled a sigh of relief.

""I’m fine, really, don’t beat yourself up. I had fun before the whole passing-out-and-nearly-dying part."

Bob’s hand lingered a moment longer before dropping away.

"Next time we hang out, I promise no heat-related medical emergencies."

"So there’s going to be a next time?" Kane smiled awkwardly.

"I certainly hope so," Bob said softly.

"It’s rare to meet someone on these cruises who isn’t just trying to talk to me due to my father."

Kane gave a guilty laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He was here precisely because of Bob’s father, after all.

"So why are you guys on this cruise anyway? And what’s with the masquerade ball? Seems like a lot of effort for a floating party."

Bob leaned back against the railing, moonlight silvering his profile.

"Father claims it’s a business retreat, but it’s really about showing off the Holloway collection to potential buyers and partners."

"The masquerade was my idea, actually," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"I convinced him it would add mystique and exclusivity. The truth is, I just wanted one night where people couldn’t immediately identify me as ’Bernard’s disappointing son.’"

He tapped his mask. "Behind these, we’re just shapes and voices. No expectations, no reputations."

Kane nodded, understanding the appeal. How many times had he wished to shed his own identity—Bureau agent, fox spirit, perpetual screwup?

"For a few hours, I get to be someone else," Bob continued. "Someone who doesn’t have the Holloway name weighing him down."

Kane swallowed the guilt rising in his throat.

This wasn’t personal—it was his job. And if Bernard Holloway was trafficking in spirit artifacts, someone needed to stop him.

"Must be hard living in that shadow," Kane said, genuinely sympathetic despite his ulterior motives.

"So your father brought his entire collection on this floating palace? Seems risky on open water."

Bob sighed, shoulders slumping slightly.

"Not everything—just the ’crown jewels’ as he calls them."

"Crown jewels?" Kane leaned closer, his fox instincts perking up at the scent of valuable information.

"Not just any auction," Bob said, lowering his voice despite their isolation on the deck.

"Father calls it ’The Floating Exchange.’ Invitation only, ultra-exclusive. The kind where the items never appear in any official catalog."

Bob’s expression darkened as he continued.

"Each piece has some strange history or mysterious background. Things that disappeared from museums under odd circumstances, and artifacts with unusual properties."

Kane’s mind immediately went to the Midnight Chalice.

"And your father thought a boat in international waters was the perfect venue because...?"

"There is less jurisdiction." Bob’s mouth formed a tight line.

"Some of these items exist in legal gray areas. Technically not stolen, but not exactly obtained through proper channels either."

"That’s smart," Kane nodded, mentally cataloging everything.

"International waters, controlled guest list, everyone already vetted by being wealthy enough to be here."

"Father always says the best business happens where governments can’t reach." Bob sighed.

"I hate it, but he didn’t exactly ask my opinion."

Kane fought to keep his expression neutral. The Bureau would definitely want to know about this floating black market for potentially magical artifacts.

Suddenly, Kane’s chest tightened, a familiar pulse rippling through the karmic seal beneath his shirt.

Cyrus was on the move—and moving with purpose.

"You okay?" Bob asked, noticing Kane’s sudden discomfort.

Before Kane could answer, heavy footsteps approached from behind.

Two broad-shouldered men in tailored suits appeared, their earpieces and rigid postures screaming security.

"Mr. Holloway," the taller one said, addressing Bob with practiced deference. "Your father requests your immediate presence."

Bob’s carefree demeanor vanished, replaced by the resigned expression of someone accustomed to being summoned.

"And Mr. Ashwood," the second guard added, his tone considerably less respectful.

"Mr. Veyr is looking for you as well."

Kane felt the bond pulse again, stronger this time. Whatever was happening, Cyrus wasn’t happy about it.

"Guess break time’s over," Kane muttered.