The European distributor call lasted exactly forty-two minutes. For Damon, however, it felt like forty-two years.
He nodded, spoke the right corporate buzzwords, and confirmed the delivery schedules, but his mind was completely divorced from the screen. Every ounce of his awareness was tethered to the boy sitting fifteen feet away.
Leo hadn't typed a single word during the entire call. He had simply sat at his desk, bathed in the warm, honeyed light of the late afternoon sun, watching Damon. He played with a silver pen, letting it roll slowly across his knuckles, his green eyes dark and unblinking.
"We will finalize the contracts by Monday, Mr. Blackwood," the German executive on the screen said, wrapping up.
"I look forward to it. Have a good weekend, Klaus," Damon replied, his voice impressively steady.
He reached out and clicked the red button to end the meeting. The screen went black, plunging the office back into silence.
