At that moment, without wasting a second, James leaned slightly forward on the table and glanced around at the men sitting with him. His eyes, sharp and focused now, moved from one familiar face to another. The room had fallen into a thoughtful silence, the kind of silence that comes just before decisions are made—serious decisions.
James adjusted his cufflinks slowly, a smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. Then, with a calm and deliberate voice, he finally spoke.
"Well," he began, his tone laced with gratitude and pride, "since you were the first ones to call me after what happened back there… since you didn't waste time, didn't hesitate, and didn't laugh behind my back like most people probably are doing right now… I'll say this."
He looked directly at Bartholomew Ainsley as he continued.
"You reached out to me, you invited me to your table, and you still saw value in me even when everyone else thought I had already lost. That matters. I won't forget that."
