Aura returned to her room, after taking her time to enjoy her dinner. Though Orion was there, she didn't let it affect her appetite.
Aura felt the immense, bone-deep relief of conclusion. The contracts were provisionally accepted, the liabilities noted, and she was done with this tower, this city, and the chilling presence of one CEO. She had made it through the necessary ritual of corporate warfare.
She was standing at the curb of a luxury high-rise, waiting for the sleek black car that would take her to the private jet terminal. Quinn had gone to see to it that nothing happened. She checked the label on her luggage one last time, a meticulous executive preparing for flight.
A distinct, metallic thud—the sound of a car door closing a little too close—made her look up. Orion was walking toward her, his expression carrying that familiar mix of corporate victory and proprietary challenge.
He stopped a few feet away. "I thought you might appreciate the courtesy of confirming my general counsel received your board's conditional acceptance of the term sheet."
Though Aura's company was fully into furniture, she agreed to work with Orion.
Her gaze was flat, professional. "The terms are accepted, pending final review. You have what you wanted."
She paused, then added a cold barb, reflecting the news she had accidentally overheard in the lobby earlier.
"And I assume you have other, more personal commitments that require your attention now that the business is settled."
The comment landed with precise accuracy. Orion's eyes narrowed slightly—a flicker of annoyance at her knowing—but he quickly masked it.
"My personal life is not under discussion. I'm here because you are leaving my city, and I find it poor form that you didn't even grant me a simple goodbye."
He let the silence hang, heavy and demanding.
"Two years ago, you left because you believed my ambition would always destabilise yours. Now, your ambition requires my stability. Do you really believe the only thing left between us is exclusive distribution rights?"
Aura turned fully toward him, the faint warmth of the morning sun doing nothing to soften the glacial quality in her eyes. The pain of the past, coupled with the brutal clarity of his impending marriage, solidified her resolve. She didn't have to fight him; she just had to leave him with nothing.
"You are correct," she said, her voice dropping to a low, devastating monotone, cutting through the transactional air between them.
"I didn't say goodbye, Orion, because I already said goodbye two years ago. When you threw the divorce papers in my face. That farewell was absolute. I am not leaving you; I am leaving your city. The difference is critical."
The black sedan arrived, its engine idling with quiet patience.
Aura continued without looking at him. "And as for the 'personal commitments' you mentioned? I wish you and your fiancée the very best in your new venture. You both deserve exactly what you are building."
She offered him a curt, dismissive nod that acknowledged his corporate status but obliterated any personal connection. Then, with a fluid, decisive movement, she stepped into the car, pulling the door shut herself, leaving Quinn, who was beside the car, in a daze. She also got in.
The car pulled away instantly. Orion remained frozen on the curb, his carefully composed victory shattered by her final, knowing dismissal. He was left alone with his achieved ambition and the bitter, certain knowledge that the woman he had just negotiated with was no longer reachable by either desire or regret.