Andres answered with one cold word. "I will."
Everyone in the room was speechless.
Most people would've backed off.
James didn't so much as blink.
"We received a citizen complaint," he said, voice clipped and official. "A woman named Maeve administered an unapproved drug to a patient."
"That's a violation. Under federal regulations, we have grounds to bring the responsible party in for questioning."
He looked around, deliberately slow. "Which one of you is Maeve?"
A dangerous chill gathered in Andres's eyes.
James was making it clear he didn't give a damn whose house he was standing in.
Sofia clutched Maeve's hand hard. "I'm the patient. The medicine is fine. You can leave."
James's smile carried a hint of disdain. "Whether it's fine isn't for you to decide. We determine that after we investigate."
His gaze slid over Maeve's face with lazy insolence. "So you're the suspect?"
Andres's expression turned murderous.
Before Maeve could answer, Murray strode forward and slapped James across the face—hard, sharp, echoing.
As Andres's right-hand man, Murray knew exactly what Andres wanted. A piece of trash like James wasn't worth staining Andres's hands.
No one expected Murray to actually do it.
James clapped a hand to his cheek, eyes blown wide in disbelief. "You just assaulted a federal officer. That's a crime."
James's people tensed immediately. The White security team shifted at the same time, bodies angling into a fight stance.
Murray calmly wiped his hand with a tissue, smiling without warmth. "There was a fly on your face, Mr. Shepherd. I was being helpful."
James looked to Andres. "Is this how the White family treats guests?"
Andres's voice was glacial. "When a fly lands on your face, you remove it. Period."
James swallowed his rage and barked loudly at his team, as if to prove he was in charge. "Take the suspect."
Murray moved as if to hit him again, but Maeve caught his sleeve and pulled him back.
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