Derek Lawson stood at the glass wall of his Chicago office, the skyline blurred by steady rain. At forty-four, his reputation carried equal parts respect and fear. His eyes, cold and sharp, had stared down rivals and dismantled them without hesitation. Derek never settled for small wins, he crushed until nothing remained.
The intercom buzzed. His assistant’s voice was crisp. “Mr. Lawson, your wife called to confirm dinner plans.”
A muscle tightened along Derek’s jaw. Natalie. His wife of seventeen years and the mother of their fifteen-year-old son Carter. Once she had looked at him as if he hung the stars. Now she arranged dinners with the same detachment she used for school appointments.
He had built Lawson Dynamics from scraps of ambition. When his father left, Derek was thirteen and furious. While other kids shot hoops, he read financial reports and mapped out futures. By twenty-eight he ran several successful companies. By thirty-six he had married Natalie Brooks, daughter of a modest contractor, impressed by his speed of ascent.
