"I don't expect forgiveness," he said.
"Good."
"But I am sorry, Claire."
For the first time all day, it didn't sound like strategy. It sounded small. Human.
Across the hall, Vanessa watched us, gripping her tablet so tight her knuckles had gone white. Walter appeared beside her and handed her a single sheet of paper. Her face changed the moment she read it.
She looked at Derek — not with affection, not even fear. With calculation.
"Nathan— Derek," she called, voice tight. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
She glanced at me, then at Walter, then folded the paper.
"Not here."
"I believe it concerns Claire as well," Walter said quietly.
After a long hesitation, Vanessa handed it over. Walter passed it to me.
The words blurred at first — *strategic partnership, preliminary acquisition pathway, beneficiary-linked voting preference* — until I saw my name.
Not Claire Sinclair.
Claire Kingsley Ashford.
My fingers went cold.
