He turned back to Derek.
"Young man," he said, voice low and even, "you should be more careful with the people you dismiss."
Derek blinked, then let out a short laugh — not his warm public laugh, but the clipped one he used when an intern misread an email.
"Excuse me?"
Vanessa finally looked up, annoyed the room had stopped orbiting her.
"I said," the old man repeated, folding his hands over the documents, "you should be more careful."
"I don't have time for riddles," Derek snapped. "Stamp the papers."
His phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it. Probably PR, reminding him the investors were less than three hours out. Nexora had spent eighteen months building toward this presentation. Half the tech press called the new AI platform revolutionary. The other half called it overhyped. Derek had staked his entire company on proving the first half right.
And he'd chosen this morning to erase his wife on his way to prove it.
