Page 110 of The Substitute Fiancée

What if none of this holds?

Still no message from Sam.

Mid-afternoon, volatility intensifies.

The screens feel oppressive.

A Bloomberg article drops. Sharp. Critical.

The stock falls 3% in twenty minutes.

“Shit,” David mutters.

“We hold,” I say. “This was expected.”

I hide my trembling hands. My team is watching me. They need me steady at the helm. I force myself to be there, even as doubt creeps in.

My phone vibrates.

It’s not Sam.

I don’t have the strength to open the message.

The end of the day approaches.

43.

42.50.

43.20.

I stand in front of the main screen. Every second stretches.

4:59 p.m.

5:00 p.m.

Close.

€42.80.

It’s not a triumph. It’s not a failure.

It’s a fragile line, barely held.

A collective sigh passes through the room.

“We held,” David says.

“Yes… barely.”

I feel no victory. Only a crushing exhaustion.

I go home. The penthouse is dark, silent.

I should be celebrating. Calling my parents. Opening a bottle of champagne.

Instead, I sit in the dark and stare at my phone.