Chapter 90 #8: It's Non-negotiable
Vincent stops a few feet away, his brow creasing as his gaze flicks between David and me.
“Everything alright?” his asks again, keeping his voice low and controlled.
David looks at us both for a long moment – first Vincent’s hand, then my face, then back to the hand again. The corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smirk that disappears quickly.
“Perfectly,” David says. “Just old friends catching up.” He nods toward me, polite enough to look professional. “Mrs. Calder.”
He turns without waiting for a reply, walks past us, and heads down the hallway toward the elevators. The faint smell of cedar stays behind.
Vincent watches him until the corridor is empty. Then he drops his hand from my back and turns to face me. “What the hell was that?”
It’s not a question.
“Like he said, just two old friends catching up,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“Old friends? Are you kidding me?” his voice raises slightly. “His your ex fucking husband!”
I hold his gaze. “Yes, but before that, we worked together. Which means I know him more than anyone else, and I’ll know just how to get what we want from him. Isn’t that why you brought me on board in the first place?”
His jaw tightens. “Problem is ‘worked together’ isn’t all you both did.”
“Don’t!” I feel the anger flaring up within me. “I told you all that in confidence. Don’t you dare throw it back in my face.’
“You’re right. I'm sorry,” he says, running his hand over his face, “I just didn’t expect to ever have to see him again."
“It’s fine,” I say. The lie slides out smoothly. “Can we focus on the deal?”
His eyes search my face, lingering a second longer than usual. Then he nods. “Alright. But we’re going back in. I want to finish this meeting.”
“Vincent, the meeting ended when McAllister left.”
“Then we’ll start it again.” He takes my elbow, gentle but firm, and guides me back toward the private dining room.
Inside, McAllister has returned and is scrolling on his phone. He looks up as we enter, clearly sensing the shift in atmosphere but choosing not to acknowledge it. David takes his place across from us, settling in with an ease that borders on provocation.
Vincent pulls out my chair first, then takes the seat beside me instead of across. It’s deliberate. He wants to be next to me, visible, staking his claim in the most polite way possible.
“Shall we continue?” McAllister asks.
“Yes,” Vincent says crisply. “Let’s.”
McAllister clears his throat. “Right. Where were we? The governance provisions. Nora explained the seventy-five percent threshold for drag-along rights.”
Vincent leans forward. “We’re comfortable with that. It protects the founder’s vision while still giving minority investors real input. We’ve delivered consistent returns for three years with no drama or scandals. Just performance.”
“Performance,” David repeats slowly. “Impressive. Especially considering how fast Calder grew. Almost like someone handed you the playbook.”
Vincent’s fingers tighten on the arm of his chair. “We built this from the ground up. No handouts. No shortcuts.”
David tilts his head. “No shortcuts. Interesting choice of words.” He turns to McAllister. “You’ve seen the audited financials. Notice anything about the timing of the major capital infusions? They line up almost exactly with certain departures at Reid Global.”
McAllister shifts in his seat. “I’m not sure this is the right place for–”
“It’s exactly the right place,” David says, voice even. “When someone’s asking for nine figures, transparency isn’t optional. It’s required.”
Vincent’s voice drops. “What are you implying, Reid? Say it plainly.”
David meets his eyes. “I’m implying that Calder Investments benefited from knowledge, contacts, and possibly people who used to work at Reid Global.” His gaze flicks to me, and then back to Vincent. “Knowledge that would be considered proprietary in most places.”
The accusation hangs in the air.
Vincent gives a short, humourless laugh. “You’re reaching. If you’re that worried about where our success came from, maybe you should reconsider investing.”
“I’m reconsidering a lot of things tonight,” David says quietly.
I feel the change in Vincent before he speaks. His shoulders square, the way they do when he’s ready to draw a line.
“Enough,” he says. “We’re not interested in a partnership with this much hostility. If you can’t keep personal history out of business, we should end this now.”
David lifts a single brow. “You’re walking away from a nine-figure commitment over a few pointed questions?”
“I’m saying we won’t be strong armed.”
McAllister looks alarmed. “Gentlemen, please.”
David clasps his hands together, unfazed. “No one is being strong armed. I’m asking questions.”
“Questions that sound like accusations,” Vincent snaps.
McAllister looks like he wants to disappear.
David studies Vincent for a long moment, then slowly begins to gather his papers. “Very well then. I’ll tell my team. We have several more opportunities that are a lot less shady than your company anyway.”
He stands to leave. Vincent stays seated.
I feel the deal slipping away. Eighteen months of work, late nights, endless revisions – all of it hanging on one man’s pride.
I stand and put a hand on Vincent’s arm. “Give us a moment, gentlemen.” Vincent looks at me, surprised. “Outside,” I add quietly.
He hesitates, then nods, and we step into the hallway, the door closing behind us.
“Vincent,” I start, keeping my voice low and calm. “We’ve been chasing this deal for almost two years. McAllister is the anchor. If he walks because we can’t handle Reid, we lose the whole round. We don’t have another lead like this.”
Vincent’s eyes flare up. “He’s baiting me. You saw it.”
“I did. But I also saw a man who’s still angry about something from five years ago. He wants to rattle us. Don’t let him win by making you walk away.”
Vincent exhales through his nose. “You’re asking me to sit there and let him question our legitimacy. Question you.”
“I’m asking you to remember why we built this company. We didn’t build it to avoid hard conversations. We built it to win against people like him.”
He looks at me for a long moment and his expression softens. “You’re too good at this.”
“I’m good because I have to be.” I step closer and run my fingers down his arm. “Come on... one more round. Let me handle him. You stay calm. We close this deal. Then we deal with the rest.”
Vincent studies my face. Finally, he nods. “One more round. But if he crosses the line again–”
“Then we walk. Together.”
He leans down and kisses me briefly, possessive. “Together.”
We go back inside.
David is still standing at the head of the table, papers in hand, waiting with the patience of someone who knows pride takes time to bend.
Vincent sits. I stay standing.
David raises an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?”
Vincent’s voice is even. “We’re prepared to continue. Assuming everyone can stay professional.”
“I’m always professional.” He smirks as his gaze moves to me. “I'm sure your wife can attest to that fact.”
Everyone goes still, Vincent’s hands clench underneath the table. David is still goading him.
I smile politely. “Then let’s proceed, Mr. Reid.” I take my seat. “The capital commitment. We were discussing the size of the round.”
David leans back, fingers tapping the table once. “I’ve reviewed the numbers. Calder is solid and growing. Well-managed, in fact.” He pauses, eyes on me. “But it’s missing scale and vision. The kind of push that turns good companies into great ones.”
Vincent starts to speak.
I cut in. “We’re open to strategic input. That’s why we invited partners.”
David keeps his attention on me. “Good. Because I’m prepared to invest heavily. Significantly more than McAllister’s commitment. Enough to accelerate everything you’ve planned for the next three years.”
McAllister blinks. “How heavily are we thinking?”
David names a figure. The room goes absolutely quiet.
It’s triple what we asked for.
Vincent’s hand finds mine under the table and squeezes once. Only thing on my mind is this very conversation back when David specifically asked for me when he first came to the Red Room all those years ago.
And from the way his gaze is fixed on mine, that was his exact intention.
I keep my face neutral. “That’s quite... generous, sir.”
“It comes with one condition though,” David looks at me. “Nora Calder will be my sole professional point of contact. All communication, all reporting, all strategic discussions will go through her. No intermediaries. No deputies. Just Nora.”
The words settle over the table.
David’s eyes stay on mine as he continues. “It’s non-negotiable. Nora is the intermediary, or this deal is over.”