The disbelief in the room cracks—giving way to something dangerously close to hope.
Michelle actually laughs, half in shock, half in relief. Jenna drops into her chair like her legs have finally given out. Even Elijah—who rarely reacts to anything—mutters a low curse, shaking his head in amazement.
And I… I don’t know what the hell to feel.
On one hand, my commission coming in means I can breathe. I can cover this month’s bills. I can survive.
But it’s not enough.
Not for what I really need.
Not for the fight still ahead of me.
Because the twelve thousand, four hundred and eighty-six dollars I owe my lawyer? The money I need by Thursday, or I lose my parents’ house?
That’s still a problem.
I clench my jaw, pulse pounding.
The other man—the one who isn’t Konstantin but somehow still carries the same unsettling authority—clears his throat.
“We’ll need signatures on your new contracts with Belov Global Holdings. Everyone, follow me to the meeting room.”
There’s a shuffling of feet, papers rustling, quiet murmurs as people start moving toward the hallway.
I take a step to follow them.
The man—the one who just took control of this entire room without breaking a sweat—glances at me, then looks back at Konstantin.
“You,” he says smoothly, “will follow Mr. Belov to his office.”
My stomach drops.
His office?
As in, the main office. James’ office.
The one with the massive desk, the overpriced whiskey collection, the leather chairs that were more about power than comfort.
The one that, as of today, belongs to him.
“Why?”
The corner of his mouth curves—not quite a smirk, but something dangerously close.
“Because,” he says, his voice even, “I have a different contract ready for you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I follow him.
Like a sad puppy.
Which is the worst part because my feet move before my brain does, and the moment I realize I’m obeying like some helpless, wide-eyed assistant in a mafia movie, it’s too late to turn back.
The door swings shut behind me.
I freeze.
