He stared at the pages, but his eyes weren’t reading. He was just staring. He’d pick up a pen, a sleek silver Montblanc, hover it over a line, then slam it down, muttering a curse into his empty mug.

His phone, a cutting‑edge smartphone, buzzed incessantly on the table. The screen lit up with the same name over and over: Bennett Reed.

After the tenth buzz, the man snatched the phone.

“What, Bennett? What else could you possibly want? To confirm I’m ruined?”

His voice was a low growl, but it carried in the empty diner.

“Yes, I’m ruined. Are you satisfied?”

Zoe froze.

“No, I haven’t signed them. I’m looking at them now. Yes, I know the meeting is at eight a.m. I know the creditors will be there. I know Sullivan & Cromwell are waiting. You don’t need to remind me this is the end of Valyrias Holdings. I was there when my father built it.”

A long pause.