She’s running toleave.
She's leaving me.
I swallow hard. “Did she take anything of mine?”
Rowan’s pause answers before he speaks.
“She didn’t take your things,” he says, quieter. “She took hers.”
Fuck that’s worse.
Because it means she doesn’t plan on coming back for me or anything to do with us.
I breathe once. Twice. My mind wants to fracture into a thousand directions, Lucy, Richard, Caspian, Simone, the acquisition, the PR fallout, the damage...
But there’s one line that matters.
“I’m ending it,” I say.
Rowan’s voice is a low growl of approval. “Good.”
I hang up.
Caleb is already packing the folder back into the bag. He doesn’t ask permission. He knows me too well.
“You’re going to Richard’s meeting,” he says.
“I’m going to make sure he never has another one,” I answer.
Caleb’s gaze flicks over the broken glass. “Then let’s go.”
The conference level of the hotel is quiet, soundproofed, and designed to feel like power lives here and never raises its voice.
We move down the hallway as if we own it.
Because as of thirty minutes ago, we do.
The meeting room door has a frosted pane. I can see silhouettes inside. Movement. Someone is leaning forward. A man is gesturing, animated and frustrated.
Delays have made them restless.Good.
They should be uncomfortable. They should realize what happens when they try to negotiate with snakes.
Caleb doesn’t knock.
He opens the door and steps aside for me like a goddamn executioner offering the stage.
I walk in, and the room holds its breath.
Darren Kline is at the head of the table, jaw tight, sleeves rolled up, looking like a man who’s been dragged through weeks of negotiations he regrets ever starting. Two of his executives sit beside him, tense and irritated.
On the other side...
Richard and Simone are accompanied by two associates I recognize but don’t care to name.
Richard’s head lifts slowly.
He smiles, as if he expected me. Like he wanted this.
