Chapter 5: The Room That Was Always Mine
The Scott Global closing was scheduled for nine o'clock in a conference room on the fourteenth floor of their Boston offices.
I arrived at eight forty-five.
Richard Holt's assistant showed me in and offered coffee.
I accepted.
I set my materials at the head of the table — not a power move, simply the seat closest to the presentation screen, the one I had always taken on client calls because it made it easier to reference the slides.
Luke arrived at eight fifty-eight with two members of our team.
He stopped when he saw where I was sitting.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning." He set his bag down at the chair to my left.
"You're at the head."
"I always present from here."
He said nothing else.
He sat down.
The Scott Global team filed in at nine exactly — Richard, two senior partners, their legal counsel, and a financial analyst I recognized from the due diligence phase.
Richard took the seat directly across from me, which was where he had always sat on our video calls.
"Good morning, everyone," I said.
"Thank you for having us.
I'd like to walk through the final terms and then leave plenty of time for questions."
I presented for forty minutes.
I knew the material the way you only know something you have built yourself — not just the what but the why behind every number, every clause, every projected timeline.
When their legal counsel raised a concern about the indemnification structure in section four, I had the answer before he finished the question.
When the financial analyst pushed back on the phase-two projections, I walked him through the methodology line by line until he nodded and wrote something down.
Luke spoke twice.
Both times, he added context I had already covered.
I did not correct him.
I simply continued.
At ten forty, Richard set down his pen.
"I think we're ready to move forward," he said.
He looked at me.
"Clover, your team has done exceptional work on this.
The level of preparation is evident."
"Thank you, Richard."
"I do want to ask one thing, off the record, before we sign." He folded his hands on the table.
"Going forward, as we move into implementation — who is our primary point of contact?"
There was a half-second of silence.
Luke straightened in his chair.
I said, "That's a conversation I'll need to have internally before I can give you a confirmed answer.
But I want to make sure whoever you work with has been involved in this deal from the beginning."
Richard looked at me steadily.
"That's what I was hoping to hear."
The documents were signed by eleven fifteen.
Hands were shaken.
The Scott Global team moved toward the door in small clusters, and Richard paused beside me on his way out.
"I hope whatever you're sorting out internally gets sorted cleanly," he said, quietly enough that only I could hear.
"This account deserves continuity."
"It'll have it," I said.
He nodded once and left.
Luke waited until the room had emptied.
Then he turned to me, and the careful, professional expression he had been wearing all morning came down like a shade being pulled.
"What was that?" he said.
"A successful closing."
"You know what I mean.
'Whoever has been involved from the beginning.' You were talking about me."
"I was talking about the account," I said.
I gathered my materials.
"Luke, I need to ask you something directly."
"Fine."
"Did you have a custody agreement drafted?"
The silence that followed was its own answer.
His face did not collapse — he was too controlled for that — but something in it went very still, the way water goes still just before it freezes.
"Where did you hear that?" he said.
"It was forwarded to me by mistake.
I've read it."
He set his folder down on the table.
"Clover—"
"It had my travel schedule cited as evidence.
My business travel.
The travel that funds our apartment."
"That document was exploratory.
It was never meant—"
"To be filed?
Or to be seen by me?"
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said something I had not expected.
"You were going to leave me eventually anyway."
I stopped moving.
"What?"
"You've been pulling away for months.
I could feel it.
I was protecting myself."
"By filing for primary custody of a child who isn't born yet."
"By being prepared."
I picked up my bag.
My hands were steady.
I was surprised by how steady they were.
"I'll have my lawyer contact yours," I said.
"Don't call me tonight."
I walked out of the conference room, down the corridor, and into the elevator.
The doors closed.
I pressed the lobby button.
My reflection looked back at me from the polished metal doors — composed, upright, alone.
May you like
I had closed the deal.
Now I had to figure out what came next.
