POV: Maxwell
The stack of divorce papers sat in the exact center of my glass desk, untouched.
My entire legal team, seven of the most expensive corporate lawyers in New York, sat around my office in terrified silence.
Vance, my lead attorney, was pale under the recessed lights. Davies Hale, the litigation shark, kept adjusting his cufflinks like he could tighten his grip on a case that was slipping. The rest of them sat with laptops open, screens glowing with transcripts and case law, but none of them were typing. For the past two hours, they had been reviewing the file Harrison Mercer dropped on the boardroom table. They had listened to the audio recording. They had read the demands.
“Mr. Jordan,” Vance finally said, clearing his throat nervously. “Mercer has us cornered. The audi
