"I wasn't going to ask that," Derek said sharply.
Vanessa's silence said otherwise.
I looked between them. "Were you?"
Nobody answered. There it was — the last small humiliation waiting in the wings. A photo op. A smiling almost-ex-wife to reassure investors nothing was wrong.
I felt something in me finally close. Not break. Close.
"No," I said simply.
The intercom buzzed. Derek's assistant, tight with urgency: "Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Kingsley is in the main conference room with the early investor group. He's requested you join when available."
Derek closed his eyes for half a second. Walter hadn't gone downstairs. He'd moved the meeting upstairs — quietly, efficiently, without a single raised voice.
That was exactly how my grandfather made a point.
Derek straightened his jacket. When he opened his eyes, the CEO was back — but not completely. Something in him had cracked enough to let a little of the man underneath show through.
