His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 21: A Signature Means Control

Julian's voice was cold. "Jenny's on the third floor. Why'd you take her to the twentieth?"

Lily pouted, playing innocent. "Iris couldn't find you, so I brought her up."

Julian let go of her wrist and walked toward his office without another word.

Lily rubbed her arm where his grip had left a mark, her expression flipping between wounded and furious.

She stormed over to the elevator, hitting the button hard. The doors slid open just as Owen Lang, the assistant, stepped out, holding two contracts.

Lily seized the opportunity. "Owen, wait up!"

He blinked, surprised. "Miss Prescott? Something wrong?"

"Those contracts," she said, pointing. "Julian asked for them?"

"Yes," he answered flatly.

"What are they? Do they involve her?"

Owen's tone hardened. "I'm afraid that's confidential. If you're curious, you'll need to ask Mr. Everhart directly."

She crossed her arms. "I'm his best friend. He doesn't keep secrets from me."

And with that, she yanked the documents from his hands and spun around to flip through them before he could stop her.

"Miss Prescott, please—" Owen tried to grab them back, but Lily kept dodging, using every inch of space between them.

"This is Everhart Group, not your family's backyard," Owen snapped. "You can't just do whatever you want."

Lily rolled her eyes, thrusting the folder back at him. "Oh, spare me the lecture. It's just a basic investment contract."

Owen's face turned a deep shade of red. He snatched the folder and stormed off. The elevator dinged behind her.

Lily stepped inside, her eyes dark with fury, jaw clenched tight. Whatever softness she'd feigned moments ago was gone, replaced by a cold, calculated glint.

Julian's office was sleek, minimalist, and intimidating—just like him.

Iris sat across from him, a folder open in front of her, scanning the terms Owen had brought in.

When she finished, she closed the file, looked up, and met Julian's gaze head-on.

He offered her a pen. She didn't take it.

"You came here to sign, didn't you?"

She kept her voice calm. "I know my company's valuation. This offer is generous — too generous. Anyone else would've jumped at it. But I have one non-negotiable. Full control stays with me."

Julian leaned back slightly, amusement tugging at the edge of his mouth. "You think I'm going to agree to forty-nine percent?"

She didn't flinch. "No. I don't think you will."

A pause settled between them. Julian's eyes held steady on hers, the air heavy with unspoken calculations.

His silence was unnerving. That signature Julian Everhart kind of silence—the kind that filled a room with pressure.

Iris's heart picked up. She hated that he could still rattle her with a single look.

She straightened. "I came today hoping you'd consider scaling back your stake. But if you're set on full control, then maybe this isn't the right fit. I didn't come here to tie myself to something I can't walk away from."

She paused. Her voice steeled. "In fact, I'd rather walk away now."

Julian's expression changed. "Fine," he said.

Iris blinked.

"I'll have Owen redraft the contract. You get fifty-one percent," he added. "But I keep operational and pricing authority."

She stared at him, stunned. The shift had come so fast, so clean, like a door swinging open before she even finished her sentence.

She couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips—small, private, but real. She nodded once.

Just then, Julian's phone buzzed. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and his brow furrowed instantly. "What is it?"

He stood up sharply. "Where? I'm coming."

Without another word, he grabbed his keys and bolted from the room. Didn't say goodbye. Didn't even look back.

Iris watched the door close behind him.

She had a sick feeling in her stomach. She already knew who had called. It didn't hurt because she was surprised—it hurt because she wasn't.

The room was dead quiet.

Her phone battery flashed red—3%—but she just sat there, staring at the door. She thought about calling him. But she didn't.

Eventually, her phone shut off. She stayed a full hour. That was her limit. She picked up her bag and left.

At the elevator, she pressed the button, waited.

The doors opened. Two construction workers stepped aside to make room.

Iris stepped in and leaned against the back wall, feeling like her body weighed more than it ever had before.

She barely registered the men talking behind her.

"Should've filmed it. Could say we've got proof."

"Seriously, who steps on a board with nails in it and blames us? If she's gonna sue, it won't be us—she'll go after the company."

"What a piece of work, right? Probably thinks the whole world owes her something."

"She's nuts. Must've hit her head on the way in."

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The two men walked out, laughing under their breath.

Iris stepped into the lobby and approached the front desk, her voice soft. "Hi. Has Mr. Everhart left for the day?"

The receptionist nodded politely. "Yes, about an hour ago. He rushed out carrying Miss Prescott. She injured her foot—there was a lot of blood."