“He tried to threaten my commercial lease,” I said plainly. “He didn’t realize I own the dirt this building stands on.”
Derek stared at me, the reality sinking in. The ambition in his eyes flickered out, replaced by a sudden, hollow realization of what had just occurred. “You own the whole block?”
“I do,” I said. “And I suggest you go downstairs, collect your parents, and take them out of my hotel. If they are still at that table in ten minutes, I will have security escort them out to the street in front of your colleagues.”
Derek didn’t argue. He hit the elevator button, his head bowed, the weight of seven years of silence finally catching up to him. I watched the doors close behind him, then walked to the edge of the terrace, looking out over the city lamps, knowing that the locked door had finally been cleared away for good.
