He did not look at the caller ID.

He pressed the tip of the heavy gold pen to the paper.

With a swift, practiced motion, he wrote his signature on the bottom line.

The ink was dark and wet under the fluorescent boardroom lights.

He slid the paper across the polished mahogany table toward Vance.

“It’s done,” Ethan said.

Vance smiled, a thin, sharp expression that did not reach his eyes.

He reached out and snatched the document, folding it once before tucking it into his breast pocket.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Vance said. “You’ve made the right choice for the shareholders.”

“I made the choice for my daughter,” Ethan said.

Paul Raskin let out a long, heavy breath and slumped back into his leather chair.

“You just gave away thirty years of your life,” Paul muttered, staring at the floor.

“No,” Ethan said, standing up. “I just bought the rest of it.”

The phone on the table buzzed again, vibrating against the wood.

This time, Ethan picked it up.

He swiped the screen, read the message, and then looked directly at Vance.