My ribs cinched, squeezing the air from my lungs.
“That’s not an option.”
Harrison raised a brow. “And why not?”
“Because this is my company,” I said. “And I’m not handing it to someone else.”
Davidson scoffed.
“This company isn’t on a bunny hill, Emma. It’s on a double black diamond headed straight into collapse.”
Harrison inclined his head. “If they’re interested, at least consider it.”
“Absolutely not.”
Davidson and Harrison exchanged a look. Margaret’s pen resumed its steady tap.
“So,” she said, “Elion is off the table. And they continued the conversation?”
“Yes. We have a virtual meeting next month to discuss a partnership.”
Davidson snorted. “Falkirk doesn’t do partnerships.”
“They will with us.” The conviction sounded steadier than it felt.
“A partnership,” Margaret repeated.
“She’s stalling,” Davidson said. “Buying time.”
Heat rushed up my neck. “Excuse me?”
“If Falkirk is truly interested,” he said, his voice slick as poured honey, “then make it happen. Six months.”
The room tilted. “What?”
“You heard me.” He gestured lazily between himself and Harrison. “Six months to secure a partnership with Falkirk—or we’re done.”
Six months.
Everything fell away.
If they pulled out, Elion wouldn’t recover. The building would hollow. Desks would empty. Lives would scatter.
I looked to Margaret. She stayed silent.
Tears pressed at the edges of my vision. I blinked them back.
“Deal.”
Davidson’s mouth curved, unhurried and satisfied. “Good.”
Chairs scraped. Briefcases snapped shut.
As they filed out, their voices trailed behind them in muted verdicts.
“…impossible…”
“…naïve…”
