I picked up the pen. Richard smirked, elbowing the man beside him. “Smart boy. Sign on page nine.” I clicked the pen twice. Then I set it down. “Before I sign, Richard, I need to disclose a conflict of interest. My lawyer says it’s cleaner that way.” He laughed. “Your lawyer? What, the public defender who got you your GED?” I pulled out my phone and slid it across the marble the same way he’d slid the prenup. On the screen was an email header. From: D. Reyes, Managing Partner, Halstead-Reyes Capital. To: Vance Holdings, Board of Directors. Subject: Acquisition Finalized — 71% Controlling Stake. The bourbon glasses stopped moving. Richard’s smirk cracked at the corners. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I mop floors at St. Aiden’s on Fridays because my mother died there and the night crew were the only people who were kind to her. The other six days, I run the fund that just bought your company.” One of the golf buddies actually dropped his ice cube. Richard’s mouth opened, closed. “You — this is a joke —” “The board voted this morning. You’re out, effective Monday. Severance is generous. More than you offered my mother’s estate when your insurance arm denied her claim three years ago. I remember the letter. I kept it.” Gen finally looked up, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Danny, I didn’t know he — I swear —” I turned to her, gentle. “I know you didn’t, Gen. But you knew he was cruel, and you asked me to stand here anyway.” I picked up the prenup, folded it once, and set it in front of Richard. “Sign it yourself. Consider it your resignation.” I walked out past the shocked faces, past the chandeliers, into the salt air. My phone buzzed. The night crew at St. Aiden’s, asking if I was still coming in Friday. I typed back one word. Always.
