Wyatt glanced at the page, then out across the lot.

“That’s just boilerplate.”

“That’s a shield.”

“Read it tonight,” he said.

“Sign it tomorrow.

The offer stands until Friday.” He fiddled with his cufflink again.

I folded the agreement and tucked it into my briefcase next to the notary sheet.

He watched me do it and smiled, as though the fold itself meant yes.