Julian Vance did not buy into promises; he wanted data, and I gave him exact figures.

By the time the sun began to set over the frozen lake, the table was covered in my handwritten calculations.

“We have a press conference on Friday to announce the partnership,” Julian said, straightening his tie.

“I will have the preliminary structural drafts ready by Thursday morning,” I replied.

“Excellent,” Julian said. He looked at Margaret. “We made the right choice.”

After they left, I sat in the empty conference room and pulled out my phone.

There were five missed calls from Adrian’s attorney, and one voicemail from Adrian himself.

I played the voicemail.

“Claire, stop playing games,” Adrian’s voice was tight, thin with strain.

“The Boston port authority is threatening to lock us out of the bidding process by tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“Serena is putting together an alternative investment group, but we need this municipal contract to secure the bank loans,” he continued, his tone turning desperate.

“Sign the patent release. I’ll make sure you get a percentage of the consulting fees. Just sign it.”