Chapter 10 - Sunrise and SettlementThree months later, the boardroom on the forty-fifth floor of Reed Global Tower in Chicago looked very different.
The heavy, dark mahogany furniture had been replaced with bright, modern glass and steel, letting in an abundance of natural light that chased away the shadows of the past. The board of directors had been entirely restructured, Richard Reed was awaiting trial in a federal penitentiary in upstate New York, and the Southwest Transit acquisition was officially finalized as the single most successful public-private infrastructure project of the decade.
I sat at the head of the conference table, reviewing the quarterly data analytics report on my laptop, wearing a sharp, tailored charcoal blazer that cost more than my first car.
The heavy oak door opened softly, and Graham walked in carrying two cups of black coffee. He set one beside my laptop without a word, pulling up a chair right next to mine instead of sitting across the table.
"You're late for the executive sync," I remarked, not looking up from my screen, though a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
"Traffic on Lake Shore Drive was brutal," Graham replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. He reached out, gently tapping the left side of my hand. The platinum wedding band still gleamed under the office lights—no longer a legal shield, no longer a desperate weapon, but something entirely real.
"You know," I said, finally closing my laptop and turning to face him, "technically, our marriage license was filed under emergency Nevada statutes designed for transient gamblers and spontaneous tourists."
Graham raised an eyebrow, a slow, dangerous smirk playing across his lips. "Are you suggesting we need to consult corporate counsel to review our marital contract?"
"I’m suggesting," I said, leaning in closer until I could feel the familiar, comforting warmth radiating off him, "that next time, we skip the Las Vegas chapel, the security breaches, and the armed federal agents."
May you like
Graham laughed—a rich, genuine sound that chased away every lingering ghost of the Ice King forever. He reached out, his fingers tangling softly in my hair as he pulled me toward him.
"Agreed," Graham whispered against my lips. "Next time, we do it right. Starting with dinner at a restaurant where no one shoots at us."
