The next morning at Hell's Kitchen, the usual buzz of activity filled the restaurant. Lucien was at the front desk, handling reservations with his customary efficiency. The soft chime of the bell signaled a new message, and he glanced at it with casual interest. As he read the contents, his eyes widened in shock.
"Victor!" he called out, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "We have a message from the Royal Police. Commissioner Stanley Hopkins wants a reservation for two in the VIP section tonight."
Victor emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Who's dining with him?" he asked.
Lucien's face was pale. "Detective Joahna Moriarty."
The name hung in the air like a storm cloud. Victor's expression turned serious. "That's... concerning."
Nyssa, overhearing the conversation, rushed over. "Moriarty? Here? Tonight?"