Have you ever wondered how the dinosaurs felt when they realized they were about to go extinct? Yeah, me neither. But now I think I know how they’ve felt. And it isn’t a good fucking feeling; if you ask me, they went down kicking and screaming, fighting however they could. Which doesn’t really amount to much if you’re about to be wiped off the face of the earth by a fucking monstrous asteroid, but anyway.

News channels all over the world have latched on to this scandal, and they’re spinning the story in such a way that Strong Capital itself is at stake. My lawyers have gone into a frenzy with rumors that the government is about to cast its all-seeing-eye over both Carter Jeffries and Strong Capital. Can you believe this fucking bullshit? The government wants to investigate my company because of ‘ethical and moral’ reasons. What the fuck does that even mean?

You know, everyone likes to talk about how politically correct we are in the U.S., how open-minded and virtuous. But when something happens that doesn’t conform to random moral standards, whatever they are at the time, everyone grabs their torches and pitchforks. Fucking lovely, so much for tolerance.

"Hey, are you with us?" Samantha, my head publicist asks me, her worried eyes finding mine from across the table. Fifteen minutes after the news broke I called for an emergency meeting, and what I like to call the war room is now packed with lawyers, accountants, publicists, and I guess there’s even a cleaning lady in here. It’s all hands on deck, folks, we’re being torpedoed.

"Yeah, I’m here," I nod, rubbing my forehead and looking across the table. I might be worried about the whole thing, but my whole team looks as if they’re about to be beheaded by the fucking President of United States himself. Well, they’re right to be worried, but I’m the fucking CEO and I have to keep my head over my shoulders. Panic is fucking useless.

"Maybe … maybe we should talk with the government representative, Seymour Lee," Samantha starts hesitantly, peering at me over her horn-rimmed glasses, her disheveled hair just a reflex of the fucking state of chaos Strong Capital is in. She looks at me apprehensively, but that’s no wonder; she already knows what my answer is going to be.

"Fuck, no. If we bend our knees to the government, they’ll never let go of us. These assholes will play us, and we’ll dance to their tune forever. "

"Well, the thing is … the whole company is in danger. And this scandal keeps on growing into epic proportions. If we remain still … if we don’t do a thing, I have no idea what might happen. Talking to Mr. Lee won’t hurt."

Fuck, what do I say to that? Even my fucking lawyers are nodding, and she’s only the head of my PR department. I guess that she’s right; Strong Capital is in danger, and it’s my fucking fault. If that government bastard can help, I guess it won’t hurt to give it a try. Yeah, I’m always wary of dealing with the government, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I know, that’s a fucking cliché, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

So, yeah, I have no choice but to meet that guy.

"Get me Seymour then."

*

Guys like Seymour Lee are the reason I can’t trust the government. Those shark eyes look like they were designed to hunt, and his huge briefcase seems more apt to carry torture instruments than legal briefings. He’s a weird looking guy, and he talks even weirder than he looks. Seriously, sitting across from a guy like him is fucking torture.

"Are you following me, Mr. Strong?" he asks, drumming his fingers on my desk and grinning. He’s been droning about the government demands for five minutes now, but all his fancy words really boil down to one fucking thing. Unsurprisingly.

"Yeah, I’m following. You want me to give up on Union Airlines… and, somehow, all this bullshit will blow over. Tell me, Mr. Lee, why am I under the impression that you have something to do with all this?"

"Ah, Mr. Strong, I’m a busy man. My fingers are on many pies at the same time. Do we have an arrangement then?" Great, now aside from being a fucking weird asshole, he decided to become a quizzical bastard. Beautiful, just what I need right now, fucking riddles.

"No. I won’t let the government strong arm Strong Capital into giving up on this deal. I’m sorry I’ve made you come all the way here, but if that’s your only suggestion … well, I’m not interested."

"What if I, ah, tell you something that you don’t know?" His shark eyes seem to gleam, and his grin seems to be overflowing with a kind of exultant malice. "Maybe I can sway you, Mr. Strong."

"Amuse me."

"Oh, I will," he whispers, leaning over my desk. He remains in silence, though, looking straight into my eyes, almost as if he’s trying to read my fucking soul. He’s trying to build the suspense, but what the fuck can he know that I don’t?

"Ms. Kane has already cut a deal with Mr. Blake," he says, his high-pitched tone replaced by a devilish tone. Now that I wasn’t fucking expecting. "You’ve been played, Mr. Strong."

I open my mouth to speak, but my jaw just hangs open while the words remain trapped in my throat. No, it can’t be. After what happened between the three of us, and after what happened between Lucas and I … no, I don’t fucking believe it.

"I don’t buy it. Why would they do that?" I start, my heart stabbed by doubt over and over again, long thorns tightening up around my mind and enclosing my thoughts in a cage of fear.

"Ah, Mr. Strong, you’re a very honest man. Straightforward, wouldn’t you say? You like to take things at their face value. And so you’ve trusted Ms. Kane and Mr. Blake … well, let me assure you, they enjoy your straightforwardness—makes you easier to predict and control. While you were having your little meeting, my sources have informed me that Lucas and Daphne were already meeting with an all-star team of lawyers, trying to bulletproof a deal before either you or the government has the chance to make a move."

"No… it can’t --"

"Oh, it can, Mr. Strong. It can and it is. And now the ball is on your side of the court." With a satisfied grin, fully aware that his words were like a punch in my stomach, Seymour lowers his voice and continues, going straight for the kill. "I’ve heard you were a winner, but right now you’re on the losing side. What are you going to do?"

This can’t be fucking happening.