I could hear the faint sound of classical music playing in the background of his call.

He was likely sitting in his heated study, miles away from the freezing wind of the warehouse.

“We have a settlement document ready for you,” he continued. “Malcolm Sayer has the draft.”

“I told you I’m not signing anything,” I said.

“If you sign now, you walk away with enough to live comfortably,” he said. “If you wait, the state will cancel the Northline contract by tomorrow morning.”

“And then Apex takes over our routes,” I said.

There was a brief pause on the line.

“Apex is a highly capable carrier,” my father said, his voice dropping slightly. “They have the infrastructure to handle this weather.”

“They’re also using our trucks to smuggle their own flagged inventory,” I said, testing the waters.

The silence on the other end lasted longer this time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Avery,” he said. “But you have until five o’clock to sign the release.”

“No,” I said.

“Don’t be foolish,” he said. “You can’t win a legal battle while your warehouse is empty and your drivers are refusing to work.”