Bennett looked down at the notebooks, then back at me.

“Yamato is offering forty million dollars for the exclusive global rights,” he said.

“That money will be in an offshore account before the courts open tomorrow,” he said.

“They won’t touch those rights if the title is contested,” Julian said.

“An emergency injunction will freeze every asset associated with the culinary IP,” Julian explained.

“You’ll be selling them air,” I said.

“And they will sue you for fraud before the ink is dry,” I added.

Bennett’s knuckles turned white around the leather bindings.

“You’re bluffing,” he said.

“You don’t have the proof to get an emergency injunction in twelve hours,” he said.

Julian lifted his phone, tapping the screen with his thumb.

He turned the screen toward Bennett.

Even in the rain, the glowing display was clear.

It was a draft of the court order, stamped with the digital filing receipt from the New York County Supreme Court.

“The petition is already in the system, Bennett,” Julian said.

“The judge’s clerk confirmed receipt ten minutes ago,” Julian said.

“By noon tomorrow, you will be stripped of all operational control,” Julian added.