Mr. Seehorn narrowed his eyes at Matthew Powell, irritation twisting his face.
“And who the hell are you supposed to be? This isn’t the place for you to play tough.”
Matthew turned slowly, his expression unreadable, his voice calm like a blade sliding from its sheath.
“Matthew Powell,” he said. “Husband of Sarah Lacy.”
For a second, Mr. Seehorn blinked.
Then—
He burst out laughing.
“Oh—so it’s you. The lunatic. The clown. I was wondering who had the balls to talk about ‘taking my company with one sentence.’”
He leaned forward, sneering.
“So you finished pretending to be a big shot at Lacy Corporation, and now you ran here to put on another show?”
“I was planning to cripple you the moment you walked in… but no rush. Since you said you want my company—fine. I’ll give you the chance
