Chapter 7: Ninety Days, Broken

The envelope held a cashier's check for nine million dollars, made out to Ashdown Partners.

Clipped to it was a note in Lawrence's heavy handwriting.

It said: Take your money. Leave Cabot. Both of us will forget this ever happened.

Marin set it on the desk in her office and looked at it for a long time.

It was Saturday night, and her floor was dark except for one lamp.

I had come over because she texted me: Come see something stupid.

"He's paying the full face value," she said. "Today. In cash, basically."

"Take it," I said.

"Is that an order?"

"It's nine million dollars."

"You'd lose your leverage on him."

"I have the ledger. I don't need you for leverage."

I meant it kindly, and I watched it land wrong.

Her mouth went tight. She picked up the check and held it between two fingers.

"You're the only man this week who hasn't asked me to be useful," she said.

She tore it in half.

Then she tore the halves in half, and let the pieces drop into the bin.

"Marin."

"Rule three."

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Yes, you were." She walked around the desk until she was an arm's length from me.

"You were going to ask why a woman who buys debt tore up nine million dollars."

"Why did you?"

"Because he thinks I can be bought," Marin said.

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