The Unwinding Contract

The silence in Julian’s private study at Sterling Tower was a pressurized, heavy thing. Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of neon, indifferent to the fact that Marcus Thorne’s reputation was currently being incinerated by federal investigators. Elena stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, her reflection ghosting against the dark expanse. She had won. The embezzlement evidence she had leaked was comprehensive, enough to trigger a total freeze on the board’s voting rights. By sunrise, they would be begging for a settlement, not a divorce.

Julian sat at his mahogany desk, the amber glow of a single lamp carving sharp, weary lines into his face. He didn't look like a man who had just secured his empire; he looked like a man who had finally stopped

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