Marcus Oakridge’s private office was opulent, bathed in the soft glow of designer lamps. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, Julian and his mother Veronica Kross standing confidently beside him.
Maya and I were ushered in, the door closing with a heavy click behind us. Oakridge gestured to two chairs. “Leo, Maya. We need to finalize these revised terms immediately. Before the press conference.”
He slid the new, predatory contract across the desk. “I want the ink dry. Now. Thirty minutes ahead of schedule. No more delays. No more… ‘unfortunate incidents’.”
His eyes held a chilling intensity. He wanted to bury the audit Clara had just retrieved. He wanted the narrative set, the deal done, before any uncomfortable truths could surface.
“We just need a moment to review this again,” Maya said, her voice firm, attempting to buy precious seconds. “It’s a significant change.”
“There’s no time,” Veronica Kross interjected smoothly, her eyes cold. “It’s standard procedure for a talent liability mitigation.”
Julian watched me, a smug expression on his face. He thought I was trapped. I looked at Maya, and she gave a faint, almost imperceptible shake of her head. We needed to get out. Now.
Just as Oakridge reached for a pen, Maya acted. Her elbow swung wide, “accidentally” catching a stack of polished glass awards prominently displayed on the corner of Oakridge’s desk.
With a crashing, shattering symphony of glass, the awards tumbled to the floor. Shards scattered across the expensive carpet, reflecting the harsh office lights.
Oakridge jumped back, his face contorting in rage. “What in the hell—!”
Veronica gasped, stepping back from the flying debris. Julian recoiled, shielding his face.
In the chaos, Maya grabbed my arm. “Let’s go, Leo!” she hissed.
We sprinted for the door, pushing past the momentarily stunned lawyers. As we burst into the executive hallway, I heard Oakridge’s furious roar behind us.
“Stop them! Security! Stop them!”
We didn’t look back. The sounds of breaking glass and shouting echoed down the polished corridor, a frantic soundtrack to our escape.
+ There are no comments
Add yours