“If you think a few hours in a cell bothers me, then you don’t know me very well. Now, I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to update you regarding my mother’s home and your efforts to build a casino on Seventy-Ninth Street. Fair warning, you aren’t going to like it.”

“Is that so?”

“You know, it didn’t have to end up this way,” Greene said. “If someone from your family had come to me and explained the situation, I would have made restitution.”

“Really?” Clay’s upper lip curled. “Because I tried to speak to you. Twice. I was turned away both times.”

“I hardly would have engaged with an eleven-year-old boy. Your mother and father should have fought on your family’s behalf.”

“How do you know they didn’t try?”

“Because you would have mentioned it just now.”

“You have no idea what happened to my parents, my family, after you kicked us out of our home. Do not dare to say you would have cared about the displaced families under your boot heel.”

“You wish to paint me as a monster, Madden, fine. But I did care about the displaced families. I was told they all received fair market value for their property.”

“Then you were lied to.”

“I see I am wasting my breath.” Duncan reached inside the satchel on his lap, withdrawing a stack of papers. “I’ll get to the point. By buying up the land around my mother’s home you hoped to drive her away, whereby you could scoop up the property and build your casino. That will no longer be possible. I have sold the property to the city.”

“Really.” Clay forced himself to relax in his chair. “The city, you say?”

“Yes. They plan to build a public school on that block. All the property you bought on Seventy-Ninth Street will be acquired via eminent domain.” Florence’s father tossed the papers onto Clay’s desk. “I’m afraid you lose, Madden.”

Clay didn’t touch the papers. “Impossible. I never lose.”

Duncan made a patronizing noise in his throat, as if Clay was cracked. “If you look at the papers you’ll see this issue is over. The city will use the property to build a school. No casino will exist there.”

“Wrong.” Clay reached into his desk drawer and held up a set of papers. “I don’t need to look at those papers. I have my own matching set right here. The person representing the city, Mr. Crain? He’s actually on my payroll. The school on Seventy-Ninth Street? Fake. In fact, the city has no interest in building a school there. However, they were interested in helping me get the last piece of property I needed for my casino project—for a hefty price, of course.”

Duncan jerked in his seat, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “But the contracts I signed . . .”