The Mercedes and the Decision
A black Mercedes turned into the drive. Damian saw me, didn’t flinch, rang the intercom, then disappeared inside. Two minutes later, he came back out, draped his jacket over my shoulders, and led me to the car.
“He’s fired,” Damian said once we pulled away. “Effective immediately.”
The fallout hit fast — the joint project Kenneth had poured money into collapsed before noon. Contracts were canceled, accounts frozen. The cliff appeared quickly and steeply.
