You swallow the lump in your throat and do the one thing your life of contracts and mergers never trained you for.
You make a decision without negotiating it with yourself.
“Get your things,” you say softly. “You’re coming with me.”
They don’t cheer.
They don’t cry in relief the way movies teach people to expect.
Luiz narrows his eyes like a miniature prosecutor.
“Why?” he asks. “What do you want from us?”
The question hits you harder than any business scandal, because it’s the kind of question only betrayed children learn to ask.
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