He handed it to me like it was a pen… like it was a gum wrapper… like it was a completely normal thing for a man to hand over a sleek, weightless, terrifying piece of titanium that could apparently buy a whole country if I was bored enough.
“It’s for startup expenses,” Jack said, casual as hell, like he wasn’t shattering every rule of logic and financial etiquette in a five-mile radius. “Use it however you need.”
My fingers barely touched the edge of the card. I didn't even want to hold it. I just stared at it like it was radioactive, cursed, a test, a trap, or maybe all three. It had no numbers on the front. Just my name engraved below a logo that looked far too elite to be real. I wanted to scream. Or faint. Or call Jynelle and yell about late-stage capitalism. Instead, I said, “You ca
