Mistake two: I revealed leverage prematurely.
Her mother.
I should have framed it as capacity, not access. Support, not solution.
Mistake three: I underestimated her pride.
Not arrogance, something sharper. Something forged. The kind of pride that doesn’t come from believing you deserve more, but from knowing exactly how much you’ve survived while barely holding onto it.
She didn’t bargain.
Didn’t ask for time.
Didn’t waver.
She stood up and walked away.
Not dramatically. Not loudly. No, she walked away with control.
That’s the part that keeps replaying.
Not her anger, though the fire in her eyes had been… striking. Candlelight catching the amber flecks like sparks under glass. Not fear either. She hadn’t been afraid.
She’d been insulted.
My phone buzzes.
Theo:WAGER UPDATE
Theo:Lucy Bennett's reaction predictions are now CLOSED
Theo:Final guesses...
Theo:Elliot “polite decline”
Theo:Caleb “asks for amendments”
Theo:Theo “throws wine”
Theo:Rowan, no entry... coward
I exhale through my nose.
The elevator chime cuts through the quiet.
I don’t need to check the security feed to know who it is.
Theo strolls in like the penthouse belongs to him, jacket half-zipped, grin already forming.
“Well?” he asks. “Am I richer or poorer?”
“She declined,” I say.
Theo stops short.
“Oh.”
That single syllable holds genuine surprise.
