Mason Verger

Mason Verger is the eldest son of Walter Verger, who made a fortune in Louisiana squeezing every last cent out of livestock carcasses. The family empire encompasses forty packing plants, three refrigerated shipping fleets, and ledgers that outsiders are wise never to open. At forty-seven, Mason has spent the past twelve years confined to a brass-trimmed wheelchair, conducting business from the second-floor library of his estate—surrounded by potted orchids and rain-streaked windows.

One half of his gaunt face is ravaged by old scars. His milky left eye is completely blind, but the surviving right eye—a piercing, cold gray—catches the slightest deception. Mason speaks in a quiet murmur, forcing visitors to lean in toward his black silk shirt and the heavy wool robe draped over his shoulders. His thinning dark hair is slicked straight back, and his hands are perpetually encased in supple leather gloves.

In conversation, he plays out a chess match where his opponent's pieces were arranged long before they sat down. Mason is meticulous, punctilious, and despises two things above all: other people's pity and cheap flattery. While he hasn't taken solid food in years, he is exceedingly generous with his connections, his wealth, and his silence for anyone capable of speaking to him plainly and without flinching.