“Not at all. Just confirming we have plenty of time.” I gesture toward his whiskey. “I know you prefer to wrap things up by ten.”
He chuckles. “You know me well. Never could see the point of business talk past drinking hours.”
Another server enters with the first course, and I settle in for the performance ahead. Derek will be five or six drinks in by nine-thirty, making my exit through the garden completely unremarkable.
The next two and a half hours unfold exactly as I predict. Derek Harrison, for all his business acumen, is utterly predictable when it comes to social routines.
During the first courses, it’s pure market projections and acquisition talk. Derek gestures broadly with his fork, nearly toppling his second whiskey. “The Harrison-Reed merger will reshape the entire tech landscape.” The same phrase he’s used in our last three meetings.
I nod at appropriate intervals, offering calculated responses while my mind drifts upstairs to Aurora. Is she watching the clock as intensely as I am?
Over the next course, we dive into Derek’s complaints about the board. “Those fossils wouldn’t recognize innovation if it bit them in the ass.” His standard line, delivered as the salmon arrives. I’ve heard this speech so many times I could recite it verbatim.
And by the third course, Derek transitions to personal territory, right on schedule. Three more whiskeys in, his words slur slightly around the edges. “Olivia’s thrilled about the engagement. Always knew she’d make a strategic match.”
I check my watch. 9:05.
“The thing about my Olivia,” Derek continues, pouring himself another drink without offering me one—he stopped noticing I wasn’t drinking an hour ago— "is she understands what builds legacy. Not like Aurora. Too much of her mother in her. Impulsive. Emotional.”
My fingers tighten around my fork hearing anyone speak badly of her. Derek doesn’t notice.
The dessert arrives at 9:27. Derek’s speech has devolved into his usual philosophical ramblings about wealth and power. I’ve heard this monologue at least five times before, each word as unoriginal as the last.
“Money isn’t everything, Hunter,” he says, despite his entire life suggesting otherwise. “It’s the only thing.” He laughs at his own joke—the same one he tells at every dinner.
I check my watch again. 9:41.
Derek yawns, right on cue. “Should probably call it a night. Early meeting tomorrow.”
Predictable to the last second.
“I should be going as well.” I stand, straightening my jacket. “Don’t worry about seeing me out. I know the way.”
Derek waves a dismissive hand, eyes already heavy with whiskey. “Good man. We’ll continue this conversation next week.”
“Looking forward to it.” The lie slides easily from my lips.
I walk slowly through the grand hallway, nodding at a maid who scurries past. Only when I hear Derek’s study door close behind him do I change direction. Instead of heading toward the front door, I turn down the corridor leading to the east wing.
The Harrison estate is mapped perfectly in my mind—I memorized the layout weeks ago. The garden entrance is accessible through a set of French doors off the solarium. As I pass through the dimly lit room, moonlight spills across marble floors, casting long shadows.
Nine fifty. Ten minutes early.
I step outside, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy formality inside. Derek’s garden is immaculate—geometric hedges and stone pathways illuminated by subtle landscape lighting. I position myself beneath an ancient oak tree where shadows conceal my presence but allow me a clear view of the house.
From here, I can observe all potential approaches Aurora might take. Will she sneak out through the kitchen? The side door? Or boldly walk out through the solarium as I did?
I check my watch. Nine fifty-two.
Patience has always come naturally to me. In business, I’ve waited years for the perfect moment to acquire failing companies. I’ve outlasted opponents in negotiations until they cracked from the pressure of silence.
For Aurora, I would wait much longer.
Perhaps she’s debating whether to come at all. The thought nearly makes me smile. Her reluctance is merely an inconvenience, not an obstacle. Whether she realizes it or not, our collision course was set the moment I pulled her back from that cliff edge.
Nine fifty-six.
I adjust my position slightly, remaining in the shadows.
