My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the pen. The weight of his words, of the implied legal battle, pressed down on me. I imagined the headlines, the accusations.
I picked up the pen.
With a final, shallow breath, I scrawled my name across the liability waiver. The ink felt cold on the paper.
I pushed the document back across the table to Arthur. He picked it up, his gaze sweeping over my signature.
His face, which had held a mask of concern, hardened instantly. The paternal tone vanished. He snapped his fingers towards his legal team, waiting by the door.
“Execute the transfer,” Arthur ordered, his voice sharp and clear. “And revoke Ms. Garcia’s access badge. Effective immediately.”
My breath hitched. Marcus Albright, the Chief Legal Counsel, stepped forward, his mouth opening.
“Arthur, wait,” Albright started, his voice a low rumble. “There’s a fiduciary…”
Arthur cut him off with a dismissive wave. “The estate is closed, Marcus. The matter is concluded.”
A security guard, a burly man I recognized from the lobby, stepped forward. He reached for my badge. My hand instinctively went to cover it.
“There’s no need for that,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Arthur watched, unmoving. His eyes were cold, distant.
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