He stops. Looks away. Works his jaw like he's holding back something he'll regret saying.
"I want to make it right," I say.
"How." It's not a question. It's a challenge.
I pull the folded contract from my jacket. Set it on the table.
"What's that?"
"My contract. Eight years, sixty-four million."
Easton looks at it but doesn't touch it. "And?"
"I want to give it to her. To use however she wants. Negotiate her job back, force Henderson's hand, blow the whole thing up—whatever she decides. It's hers."
He stares at me. "You're serious."
"Yeah."
"You'd throw away your career."
"If that's what it takes for her to have options." I push the contract toward him slightly. "But I'm not—I don't want to be her hero. That's not what this is. I just want her to have leverage. Weapons. Whatever she needs to fight this her way."
Easton doesn't respond. The silence stretches long enough that the bartender glances over, probably wondering if we're about to throw down.
"She won't take it," Easton finally says.
"Maybe not. But I want her to know it's there."
"And what do you want in return?"
"Nothing."
He laughs—short, humorless. "Bullshit. You want her to forgive you. Take you back."
"I want her to know I understand what I did. That's it. If she never wants to see me again after that, I'll live with it."
"Will you?"
The question hangs there. I think about Sloane—her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she looked at me like I was the only solid thing in her world.
"No," I admit. "But I'll do it anyway. Because that's her call to make. Not mine."
Easton picks up the contract. Turns it over. Sets it back down.
More silence.
"You know what pisses me off the most?" he says, and his voice is different now. Still hard, but something underneath has shifted. "I gave her an ultimatum. At the gala. Told her she had to choose—you or her career. You or this family."
I wait.
"Told her I'd go to Kowalski myself if she didn't end it." He's not looking at me anymore. "I thought I was protecting her. Thought I knew better."
"And now?"
"Now she lost her career anyway, and all I did was make her feel like she couldn't come to me when it happened." He shakes his head slowly. "I was so worried about her repeating old patterns that I didn't notice I was repeating mine. Ultimatums. Deciding what's best for everyone."
I don't push for more.
