Every attachment.
Even page eighteen.
Especially page eighteen.
Flynn countersigned the acceptance documents.
Then he signed the beneficiary assumption.
Then the covenant acknowledgment.
The lawyer gathered the papers.
Flynn stood.
He looked relieved.
Victorious.
Almost younger.
He leaned down.
“For what it’s worth, this didn’t have to happen.”
I whispered, “I know.”
He misunderstood me.
He smiled.
Then he left.
The moment the door clicked shut, my tears stopped.
I reached for the landline beside the hospital bed and called Phoebe.
She answered on the third ring.
“Sloan?”
“Process the transfer.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“Process it.”
“Sloan, Bellweather is worth more than five million dollars.”
“I know.”
“If Flynn accepts—”
“He already did.”
Another silence.
Then Phoebe’s voice changed.
“Did he sign the complete acknowledgment?”
“Yes.”
“Every schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Successor liabilities?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntary acceptance?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the rain streaking the hospital window.
“Let him think he won.”
