Charlotte's voice cut through the office like a blade through silk.
Amanda's eyes widened. The assistant on the other end of the phone went silent—the kind of silence that meant they'd definitely heard that.
"Ms. Thompson—" Amanda started, but Charlotte was already standing, already moving toward Amanda's desk, already done with whatever diplomatic bullshit was about to come out of her friend's mouth.
"Tell them," Charlotte repeated, voice harder now, cold in a way that people who only knew her as sweet and soft-hearted would have found impossible, "to go to hell. Aurelia Royce can take her 'potential investment opportunities' and shove them directly up her ass. We don't need her money. We don't need her expertise. We don't need anything she's offering. The answer is no. Not just no—fuck no."
The phone line was still active.
The assistant definitely hear every word.
Charlotte didn't care.
