“He threw his phone.”
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then Quinn stared at me as understanding moved slowly across his face.
“The acquisition.”
I did not confirm it.
He did not need me to.
“Oh my God.”
He sat down hard at the kitchen island.
“You’re Cross Meridian.”
“I founded it.”
“My father has been talking about that transaction for months.”
“I know.”
“He said it was going to stabilize the company.”
“I know.”
Quinn looked almost sick.
Then his expression changed.
“Did you cancel it because of what he said?”
That was the question I had asked myself all night.
“No,” I said finally.
“I suspended my approval because last night told me something material about the man I would be trusting across a table.”
Quinn frowned.
“He insulted you.
That makes him cruel.
It doesn’t automatically make him a bad business partner.”
“No.
But what happened after I left might.”
“What happened?”
“Danielle received three calls from Harrington executives before sunrise.
On two of them, they claimed final approval had already been granted and pressured our counsel to proceed without principal confirmation.”
Quinn went still.
I continued.
“Someone also sent a message saying delaying the signing could cause ‘unnecessary reputational consequences’ for both sides.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It sounds like a man who believes pressure is the same thing as authority.”
Quinn rubbed both hands over his face.
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“No.”
He looked up.
“You are not my messenger, Quinn.”
“He’s my father.”
“And you are my partner.
Those roles are already colliding badly enough.”
His jaw tightened.
“So what happens now?”
“Now he waits.”
William did not wait well.
At 8:03, he called me directly for the first time in our entire relationship.
I watched his name appear on the screen.
Quinn watched too.
“Answer it,” he said.
I put the phone on speaker.
William did not say hello.
“What game are you playing?”
His voice sounded different without a dining room full of people behind it.
Still angry.
Less certain.
