more honest. He looked through them. As if their presence were an inconvenience the room had failed to correct.
I carried his coffee over at four-twenty-four.
‘Americano, extra hot,’ I said, setting the cup down.
He did not thank me. He didn’t look up.
I turned to go, but he touched the rim, frowned, and called after me. ‘This isn’t hot enough.’
‘I can replace it,’ I said.
He finally looked at my face, or near enough to it to register that a human being was standing in front of him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You can move faster.’
Several people glanced over. I kept my expression neutral. ‘I’ll bring a fresh cup.’
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, he shoved his chair back and slammed both palms onto the table.
The tray in my hand rocked. The saucer tipped. Coffee flew in a dark sheet across his paperwork, the laptop edge, the cuff of his shirt, my wrist, the floor.
‘You’re so slow it’s unbelievable,’ he barked. ‘What are you good for besides carrying coffee?’
The lounge went silent so fast it felt unnatural.
Celia had frozen by the service station. A man near the fireplace half-rose from his seat, then sat back down when he realized I wasn’t the one about to lose control.
Because I wasn’t.
My pulse had quickened, but not from humiliation. Humiliation is a hot thing. What I felt was colder.
I set the tray down on the nearest empty table.
Then I untied the strings of my vest, slid the black apron off, folded it once, and laid it carefully beside Graham’s coffee-stained laptop.
He frowned, still angry, still not understanding.
‘You should be careful with your time,’ I told him. ‘You’re about to run out of other people’s money.’
The words landed a beat before recognition did.
His gaze dropped to the silver bracelet at my wrist. M.E. The initials that had signed every email from my office. The initials on the letterhead his lawyers had been chasing for three weeks.
Color left his face.
‘What did you just say?’
I pulled the laptop toward me. Because I had insisted final approval be entered live at signing, the financing portal was already open, waiting for one last lender code. My code.
He should have stopped me. He should have said something smart, something tactical, something preserving at least the illusion that he was still in control.
He only stared.
I entered six digits.
The page refreshed.
A red banner filled the center of the screen.
FACILITY WITHDRAWN.
There are moments when rooms change shape. You can feel it before anyone speaks. The balance of attention, fear, curiosity, power, all of it tilts at once.
This was one of those moments.
‘No,’ Graham said. He stood so abruptly his chair crashed backward. ‘No. Mara, wait.’
I closed the laptop.
‘You spoke to a server the same way you speak to contractors, drivers, assistants, and anyone else you think can’t hurt you,’ I said quietly. ‘That told me everything the spreadsheets couldn’t.’
He swallowed. His voice changed first. Then his eyes.
‘Ms. Ellison… I didn’t know.’
‘Exactly.’
I reached for my coat.
He grabbed at the fabric, missed, and then, in front of half the lounge, dropped to his knees on the
