Transfer of Patent Rights. Full ownership. Irrevocable.
She wanted a divorce. In exchange, she was giving him her technology. The adaptive racing systems she had spent years developing. The work that could restore his career, save lives, change everything.
She was handing it to him like it meant nothing.
Why?
Why would she go this far?
The silence in the room grew taut, broken only by the distant hum of the city below.
And then the truth came to him, cold, sharp, unwelcome.
She still believed in her technology.
But she had lost faith in him.
Adriano was about to speak when Leonidas reached for his pen. The Mont Blanc his father had given him on his twenty-first birthday. The one he used to sign contracts worth hundreds of millions.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Signing it—”
Or at least that was the plan before his own pen was snatched out of his hand.
Leonidas stared at the empty space between his fingers, then at Adriano, who now held the pen like a hostage. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You are not doing any such thing.”
“We are not that kind of lawyer-client—”
“I am saying this as your friend.”
Pause.
Leonidas’s jaw tightened. “Give me the pen, Adriano.”
“No.”
“I am not asking.”
“Neither am I.” Adriano’s silver eyes held steady. “You are not signing this.”
“It is not your decision to make.”
“And yet here we are.”
Leonidas rose from his chair, and Adriano mirrored the movement. They faced each other across the mahogany table like opposing counsel...except no courtroom had ever seen a case quite like this.
“The pen,” Leonidas said flatly.
“Come and take it.”
Leonidas reached for it, Adriano pulled back, the Mont Blanc gleaming between them as they grappled, dignity forgotten, two billionaires in bespoke suits engaged in something that bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a schoolyard scuffle.
Shayla was horribly late when she arrived at the office. She had always been punctual, but today was just the worst, and—huh?
Why were there so many paralegals crowding the hallway?
