The Billionaire's Asset: Cashing Out Freedom

push the papers across

sted on the edge of the document for a fraction of a second too long before retracting. It was the only sign of hesitation, and

on the mahogany surface. It wa

. It was always sixty-eight degrees. The cold air bit at the exposed skin of Dylan

is eyes, the color of a stormy

ir, a curtain of dark silk, fe

final offer?"

ther chair. The leather creaked

assets, Dylan. You know the terms

e words hung in

gany, her fingertips grazing the back of Claudius

us rec

. The rejection was visceral, immediate, and insti

rf

. The weight of it felt good in her hand. Heavy. Substant

. He opened his mouth, likely to recite the pre-rehearsed speech about legal counse

the absolute stability of the Snyder Group's voting structure. Any disruption, and the agreement was void. One signature equaled the end

the nib to

decisive loop of ink. There was no hesitation. No shake in her wr

eyes were rimmed with red. The pinch she had given her own

l draft of the non-disclosure agreement

he chair scraped

handle it," s

ator, her heels clicking a steady rhythm on the marble

face him one last time. The doors began to close, slicing awa

oors sealed shut, Dyla

ot in

threw her head back. Her hands

e

a silent scre

chest. He picked up the Montblanc pen she had used. He turned it over in his

n

the pen fractured in his grip. Ink bled

oor. Jensen, his executi

is waiting for

he ink on his hand.

rnal communications remain unchanged. Internall

masking his surp

stood,

ical blow, stripping away the artificial chill of the office. She pulled out her pe

di

up on the

u're out,"

It was replaced by a lazy, smoky drawl. It was the voice she used to

is a pressure release valve, Zoe. I need to

e death of a sham m

. It was a dr

ng an asset liquidat

ar. Sterling, the family butler. Dylan stopped smiling.

r glanced at her in the rearvie

m, Mr. Sterlin

hed the black speck of the car merge into the yellow river of taxi