Page 83 of The Contract

Margo’s lips curve slightly. “You can have the most impressive business plan in the world, but if the man leading it isn’t the right one—someone with integrity, vision, and a steady hand—it won’t matter. The foundation will eventually crack.”She studies me for a long moment. “I suppose that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

My fingers tighten slightly against the plush towel beneath me.

“Damien has worked hard for this deal,” I say carefully.

She nods, acknowledging that much. “And he’s an impressive man. Brilliant. Ruthless when necessary . . . but controlled. My husband respects him. That’s a rare thing.”

Something about the way she says it makes me pause.

“And you?” I ask, watching her reaction. “Do you respect him?”

A knowing smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “I’ve been watching him. Watching the way he moves in these circles. He’s different from the others.”

Her tone shifts, her words slower now, deliberate. The therapists take it as a cue to prepare their supplies for facials, giving us this moment of focus.

“But I have to know . . . is he the kind of man who values legacy? Or just conquest?”

I don’t answer right away, thoughtfully navigating through my mind, hoping to pick the right words.

The details of Damien’s childhood and early years are a mystery to me.

I have no idea what drove him to the ambition he seeks as an adult, but I know he made every penny of his fortune on his own—one of the few men in the modern world who can make that claim.

It’s something I respect about him immensely.

I know exactly what it means to crawl and fight for every crumb, too—something I bet the Calloways know nothing about.

“Mr. Calloway had his fortune handed to him.”

Margo has the good sense to hide her shock, but I can tell by the flash in her eyes that she wasn’t expecting me to say that.

But she is quiet, allowing me to continue.

“He took that fortune and multiplied it, turning it into something greater. But that starting point—the Calloway name, the weight it carried—was given to him as a birthright.”

I meet her gaze, steady and sure.

“Damien has had no such luxury. Every hill he has climbed, every mountain he’s conquered, he’s done it on his own.”

She can see where I’m going with this, and I catch the subtle change in her calculated expressions.

“You see conquests, but I see something else.” I exhale slowly, choosing my words carefully. “I see the first foundation of a legacy being laid—brick by brick, deal by deal—right before our very eyes. I wonder if the early Calloways didn’t appear similar to those observing from the sidelines.”

For a moment, Margo is silent. Then, finally, she lets out a soft, thoughtful hum.

“You are quite the persuasive woman, Elena.”

She turns her head in the other direction just as our massage therapists return at the perfect moment.

“I like that about you.” she says, her voice traveling across the room.

And just like that, the weight of the evening settles over me.

Because now I understand.

Tonight isn’t just about business.

It’s about proving—through every interaction, every glance, every whispered conversation—that Damien Wolfe isn’t just here to win a game.

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