Laura watched the announcement pop up on the screen, her eyes curving into crescents. She turned to face me, looking down from where she stood. "Andre, this company belongs to us now." She lifted her chin toward the door. "You're trespassing. Get out."
Bob followed up, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Andre, if you beg nicely, maybe I'll find you a spot cleaning the bathrooms. You're not exactly young anymore. What are you going to do out there on your own?"
I looked at both their faces—that shining, gloating triumph—and I laughed again. "No need for that." I stood up and straightened my collar. "After all, we'll see who gets the last laugh."
Laura frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I didn't answer her. I glanced at the agreement they'd already put away, and the corner of my mouth lifted slightly. "The company's yours now. Enjoy it."
Then I turned and walked toward the door. Marta made a short, contemptuous sound behind me, as if she found my parting words pathetic. I didn't look back. I pushed the office door open and walked out.
Their laughter followed me down the hall. Mixed in with it was my daughter's voice, soft and playful.
And the moment I stepped out through the front doors of the building, I saw them: a line of black sedans parked along the curb, a group of men in dark suits climbing out and heading toward the entrance.
The air outside the glass tower of SSS Technologies was thick with the scent of ozone and wet asphalt. A storm was rolling in over the harbor—the kind of heavy, dark sky that made the streetlights flicker on two hours too early.
Andre walked out of the revolving doors, his footsteps echoing on the polished granite plaza. He didn't rush. For the first time in twenty years, his shoulders didn't feel like they were carrying the weight of a mountain. The frantic, heart-stopping terror of the last forty-eight hours, the realization that his life's work was a hollow shell, the crushing weight of eighty million dollars in debt, the preparation for his own death—all had vanished, replaced by a quiet, sterile stillness.
He adjusted his collar against the damp wind and stepped toward the curb. Three black sedans pulled up, their tires splashing water against the concrete. The doors opened almost in unison, and eight men in identical, dark-tailored charcoal suits stepped out. They carried leather briefcases, their expressions carved from stone.