ROWEN

The meeting had ended exactly how I wanted.

I walked out of the conference room in my Milan-tailored charcoal suit, my steps steady as the investors followed behind, still wearing the exhausted, nervous expressions of men who had just handed over something valuable and weren’t sure if they’d made a deal with the devil.

Because they had.

"Mr. Grayson, we’ll await your legal team’s schedule to finalize the property transition," the older of the three men said, wiping sweat from his brow even though the room had been chilled to a polite sixteen degrees.

I stopped, turned slightly. “My legal team will reach out before morning. Expect the transfer...