Page 65 of A Mistake of Worth
Henri refocused, shifting forward slightly in his chair. “The timeline looks reasonable, assuming your team can maintain the testing schedule. I’d like to see more detail on the rollback procedures, in case we encounter issues during the initial deployment.”
The right words, the right tone, the kind of intelligent question that showed he’d been paying attention even when he hadn’t been. Twenty years of practice made it second nature.
But as the meeting continued, his mind drifted again. He was learning things about himself he’d never had the chance to discover. He liked cream in his coffee. He liked sleeping in on weekends. He liked choosing his own clothes in the morning, even if he usually ended up in one of Michael’s sweaters because they were soft and smelled like safety.
He liked not getting punished for small mistakes or moments of imperfection.
He liked feeling human instead of property.
The realization should have been liberating. Instead, it was terrifying. Because if he could be happy here, if he could build something different with Michael, what did that say about the past twenty years?
What did it say about all the times he’d told himself Marc needed him, that he was helping, that he was the only one who understood?
What did it say about the person he’d been versus the person he could become?
Seven more days to decide if he was brave enough to ask for more time. Or if he was too scared to try.
“Mr. Rohan?” The product manager asked. “Any final concerns before we move to implementation?”
Henri pulled himself back to the present again. “None right now. I’ll have my final report to your CEO by the end of the week, and we can begin the integration process immediately following.”
Handshakes around the table. Promises of follow-up emails. The kind of polished business theater that Henri could perform in his sleep.
As the meeting dissolved into smaller conversations, Henri gathered his materials. Three weeks of meetings, demonstrations, and negotiations had culminated in what would make Gabriel very happy. He was already mentally composing the email he’d send tonight, outlining the final terms and his recommendations.
“This is exactly what we were hoping for,” the EcoSphere CEO said, barely containing his excitement. “I can’t wait to see what we can accomplish as part of La Sauvegarde.”
“Tomorrow’s presentation should finalize everything,” Henri replied smoothly. “And I’ll be in town for another week afterthat, so please don’t hesitate to reach out if any concerns arise during the transition.”
“Perfect. We’re in excellent hands.”
The CEO’s enthusiasm was infectious, though something cold was settling in Henri’s stomach. Tomorrow. One more presentation, then a week of supposed availability for issues that probably wouldn’t arise. A week he’d been planning to use to figure out his future, to maybe find the courage to ask Gabriel—and Michael—if he could stay longer.
Henri emerged from the EcoSphere building into the late afternoon London air, his mind still half-focused on the integration timeline, but increasingly pulled toward the weight of his decisions. Just seven more days. Seven more days to—
He stopped dead.
Marc.
Leaning against a sleek black Helion LuxDrive with all the casual entitlement of someone who knew the world would never say no to him. Its seamless, aerodynamic frame shimmered under the streetlights, the hum of the idling power core barely audible. His pale blue eyes locked onto Henri.
Henri’s body reacted before his mind caught up. His breath stopped. His vision tunneled.
“Hello, Henri,” Marc said, smiling like this was a surprise encounter in a coffee shop, not a carefully planned ambush. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
Henri couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His mind scrambled for explanations—how was Marc here?
“Surprised to see me?” Marc pushed off from the car with liquid grace, his expensive suit immaculate. “You shouldn’t be. Did you really think I’d let you run away for a month without consequences?”
“I didn’t—” Henri’s voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat, tried again. “I didn’t run away. It’s work. Gabriel sent me.”
“Gabriel.” Marc’s smile turned sharp. “Yes, your dear brother. We’ll have to have a conversation about boundaries when we return home.”
The way Marc said ‘we’ made Henri’s stomach lurch. “Marc, I can’t just leave. I have meetings scheduled, responsibilities—”
“Get in the car, Henri.”
It wasn’t a request.
