"The deal is dead, Caldwell," Alejandro said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disgust. "And by tomorrow morning, every financial institution from London to Tokyo will know exactly why."
Jean-Luc, Klaus, and Lorenzo stood up in unison. They did not spare Caldwell another glance. The collective wealth and power of the European continent simply turned its back on him.
As they walked past Chloe, Klaus Richter stopped. He reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out a heavy embossed business card, and held it out to her.
"Frau Adams," Klaus said, his tone utterly sincere. "Richter Engineering is currently seeking a new vice president of global acquisitions. The starting salary is four million euros, with a signing bonus to cover whatever legal fees you might need to finally crush this insect. My private jet leaves for Berlin tomorrow at noon. There is a seat on it for you."
Chloe took the card, looking at the heavy gold lettering. A genuine smile—the first one she had worn in three years—touched her lips. "I will be at the tarmac by 10:00, Herr Richter. Thank you."
Alejandro paused beside the stunned, paralyzed restaurant manager. He pulled a sleek black titanium credit card from his wallet and dropped it onto Thomas's tray.
"Charge the entire dinner to my account," Alejandro instructed softly. "And you will add a $50,000 gratuity. Every single cent of that tip goes to Miss Adams. If I find out you withheld a penny, I will buy this restaurant and turn it into a parking lot. Do you understand?"
Thomas could only nod, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.
The four billionaires walked out the brass-trimmed doors of Laura, leaving a deafening silence in their wake.
Richard Caldwell sank slowly into his chair: his ruined suit soaked in wine, his contracts destroyed, his reputation obliterated. He was a king who had just watched his entire empire burn to the ground in under ten minutes, incinerated by a woman he had deemed too insignificant to respect.
Chloe Adams looked down at the man who had stolen three years of her life. She didn't feel any anger anymore. She didn't feel vindictive. She just felt entirely, beautifully free.
She turned on her heel, leaving her apron on the table, and walked out the front doors of the restaurant, stepping out into the cool, electric air of the Manhattan night, ready to take back the world.