Arthur sat at the head of the long mahogany table, immaculate in a charcoal suit, the very picture of a man who has never once in his life been afraid.

Luca sat beside him, his right hand bound in a cast and sling.

Their corporate attorney stood by the windows with a pen, ready to collect my surrender.

Arthur did not look up from his tablet.

“I assume you’ve brought the signed postnup.”

“I brought something better,” I said, and pulled out a chair and sat down across from them, unhurried.

Luca sneered, shifting his sling.