Whitmore’s office was glass and steel. Cold.
The $120M Meridian Tower model sat on his desk, lit from below.
Whitmore didn’t lift his eyes from his computer. “You have five minutes, Mr. Black. My legal team already drafted the termination notice. Convince me why I shouldn’t sign it.”
Damian opened the folio. Inside: the original pencil sketch of Meridian Tower. He placed it on the desk.
“You’re right to doubt me, Mr. Whitmore. You saw the video. My ex-girlfriend poured wine on my wife and asked the world ‘who I would choose.’”
He paused. The words tasted like ash. “But I didn’t throw the wine. Yes, I did nothing. That silence cost me more than any scandal ever could.”
Whitmore leaned back and finally looked at him. “Black Corp’s stock dropped 46% in 48 hours after Reed withdrew. Inv
