Ansel is in his office, talking with Henry and two of their men.
I burst through the door. They all stand, reflexively - always on-guard. Save for a hole in the wall, everything else in the room has already been repaired and replaced. That’s why money gets you.
I’m aware that my face is red and puffy from crying, but I don’t care. In fact, maybe an audience has some benefits.
“Our deal is off,” I say.
Ansel turns to his staff. “Get out,” he says, gruffly.
They immediately exit, keeping their expressions flat and their eyes toward the floor.
Ansel sits down at his desk. “Fine,” he says. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a folder. “Here it is. The contract,” he says, handing it to me.
“You’re - you’re just giving it to me?” I didn’t expect this reac
