He reached down and picked up the silver pen.

My heart stopped in my chest.

“Nathan, please,” I whispered, the tears finally spilling over my eyelashes.

He did not look at me.

He stared down at the signature line on the master agreement.

But his left hand, still inside his pocket, shifted once more.

The faint blue light of his phone screen caught the polished edge of the steel table.

I noticed a tiny, pulsing green icon reflecting on the metal surface.

It was the indicator for an active, high-definition audio broadcast.

He was not just recording his father.

He had already opened a live connection.

My eyes widened as I realized what he was doing.

The phone was broadcasting every single word directly to the outside world.

Richard stepped closer, entirely unaware, his eyes fixed solely on the pen in his son’s hand.

“Go on, Nathan,” Richard urged, his voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper.

“Sign it, and let us put this ugly business behind us.”

Nathan raised the pen, the silver tip hovering just a millimeter above the white paper.