Monday arrived and with it the Halcyon closed.
Three years of negotiation compressed into a morning of signatures, a conference room full of lawyers, and Marcus Halcyon sitting at the head of the table looking like a man who'd made a decision he was at peace with. He shook my hand when it was done and held it for a moment longer than necessary.
"Tell Claire," he said.
"I will."
"Tell her specifically." He released my hand. "She's why this happened clearly."
I didn't argue because he wasn't wrong.
The room cleared by noon and I sat in the empty conference room for four minutes doing something I almost never did.
Nothing.
Just sat with it. Three years ended. The company secured. The clause satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with clauses anymore.
Then I picked up my phone.
“I
