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He gives me a brief nod and walks toward the doors. I watch him leave, and this time I don’t pretend I was looking at anything else.

Ross Kensington had no reason to come back here personally, and yet he did.

Chapter Two

Ross

The London office is quiet except for the low hum of the climate system and my father, Charles Kensington, turning a page at the opposite end of the conference table. I finish reviewing the acquisition summary in front of me, then close the folder.

“We walk away,” I say.

Richard Voss, the longtime CEO of the Kensington Family Office, looks up from his notes.

“Completely?”

“Yes,” I tell him. “The projected return isn’t worth tying us to a partner who wants influence without responsibility.”

Charles leans back slightly in his chair.

“They’ll revise the governance terms if we push.”

“They’ll revise the language,” I reply.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll revise the intent.”

Richard studies me for a moment before glancing at my father. He’s spent most of his career inside the Kensington machinery, translating family decisions into structures that can actually survive them.

“Ross is right about the voting structure. They’ve protected themselves on every meaningful decision while expecting Kensington capital to absorb most of the exposure.”

Charles taps one finger against the edge of the document.

“You don’t think there’s enough upside to negotiate?”

“There’s always enough upside on paper if someone builds the assumptions correctly,” I say.

“I’m more interested in what happens when the assumptions fail.”

My father’s eyes stay on mine.

“So you’d kill it?”

“I’d decline it cleanly and leave the door open if they restructure later,” I answer.

“There’s no reason to turn a bad deal into an emotional one.”

The corner of his mouth moves.

“Fine,” he says. “Have legal send the response.”

Richard closes his notebook.

“I’ll speak with Katherine before lunch.”

“That’s all I needed,” Charles says, gathering the papers in front of him.

The meeting ends without ceremony. That’s how most of them end. No dramatic speeches, no need to prove who holds authority. Decisions are made, responsibilities assigned, everyone moves on.

Richard leaves first. My father follows a few minutes later after reminding me about a call with New York, and I remain at the table long enough to answer two messages and approve a revised schedule for the following week.