* Lawrence *
The morning after the meeting with Jana, I barely had time to go over the latest numbers before my father's voice came over the intercom.
"Now, Lawrence."
Not a request. Never a request.
I closed the ledger, smoothed down my tie, and stepped into Lance Dankworth's office. The air here was different, colder, heavier, like the walls themselves carried the weight of the Dankworth name. He sat behind the desk that had been his since I was old enough to understand the word "legacy."
"Sit," he said, not looking up from his papers.
I took the chair opposite him, back straight.
Finally, he set his pen down. "I spoke to Mrs. Pitman last night." His eyes, pale and sharp as cut steel, fixed on me. "She says you've ended things with Dianne."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I said ev
