Outside, the rain lashed against the glass, and another low rumble of thunder shook the floorboards beneath our feet.

My phone buzzed in my hand again.

A second notification appeared.

It was a press release, drafted and ready for my final approval.

I looked at Garrett, then at his grandfather, feeling the cold weight of the moment.

The power in this room was about to shift, and none of them were prepared for what was coming next.

Arthur Vance watched me closely, his pen poised over the paper.

“Ms. Vance?” Arthur asked, his voice tentative. “Shall we proceed with the signatures?”

“No,” I said, my voice quiet but clear.

I reached out and pushed the heavy, gold-bordered document back across the polished mahogany.

The gold-plated fountain pen rolled off the desk, landing silently on the thick Persian rug.

Arthur Vance blinked, his hand frozen in mid-air.

“Excuse me?” Vivian said, her face tightening.

“I will not be signing your agreement, Arthur,” I said.

“Clara, don’t be foolish,” Garrett said, taking a step toward me. “This is more than enough to set you up. It secures the boys’ future.”