My name is Lucien. The doors slide shut on an empty hall, and my palm is still raised to a chest that isn't there.
My phone buzzes once. My mother does not call. She summons.
She is already seated when I walk in, a pot of tea between us and one cup already poured for me.
Marguerite: Sit down, Lucien. You look like you slept in that suit.
I did. I don't tell her that.
Marguerite: The merger vote is in three weeks.
Marguerite: The board met this morning. Your name came up more than mine, and not in a good way.
She says it the way she says the weather. Facts, then consequences.
Marguerite: Thursday night. You stopped the service elevator between floors for eleven minutes.
Marguerite: There was a maintenance worker inside.
I keep my face still. Inside my chest, something goes cold and quiet.
Lucien: The cameras are mine.
Marguerite: The cameras are the building's. The building answers to the board. Try again.
Marguerite: I don't care what you do with the help. I care that you do it where the board can't see it.
Marguerite: They want you steady before the vote. Steady looks like a man with nothing to hide.
Lucien: I am steady.
Marguerite: You shake, Lucien. You've shaken since you were nineteen.
She says it gently. That is how she does the most damage.
Marguerite: One panic attack in front of the merger committee and the whole thing goes to Julien.
Marguerite: He doesn't shake. He doesn't hide in elevators. He shows up.
Lucien: So the board wants me medicated and married. Is that it?
Marguerite: The board wants you settled. A partner. Someone quiet.
Marguerite: Someone who signs what he's given and knows when to be seen.
Lucien: You want me to buy a husband.
Marguerite: I want you to buy silence with a ring on it. I did the same thing with your father.
She says it without flinching. I don't know if that is honesty or a weapon.
Marguerite: Fix it before the vote. Or I fix it with Julien.
Marguerite: Don't fuck this up, Lucien. I'm too old to start over with your cousin.
The door clicks shut. The tea in front of me has gone cold.
Alone, I hold out my hand and look at it.
It isn't shaking. That's worse. It means the fear has gone somewhere I can't see.
I pull up the file I already bought. His name is Caleb. His sister is nineteen and her kidneys are failing.
The deposit is bigger than a year of his pay and it's due in fourteen days. For her, he would take this whole city apart with his hands.
That is the one loyalty stronger than his pride. I heard it when he said her name in the stairwell.
He ordered me to sit on my hands. He believes that's how a man keeps his pride.
I want something I can't put a name to. Not his mouth. Not his hands.
Something quieter. Someone in this penthouse who isn't paid by the hour and doesn't flinch when I shake.
My mother wants me settled. Fine. I'll get settled.
I open a new document and start typing the terms. Money for his sister. A room in my house. My bed.
This time I won't call it a price. I'll call it a contract.