Something tears inside you with a slow, ugly sound.
“Mr. Villalobos,” your attorney says again, more firmly this time. “We need your agreement on the exclusivity clause.”
You set the glass down before it can shatter in your hand.
The German partner to your left is mid-sentence about distribution rights in Zurich, but you are already standing. Chairs scrape. Three sets of expensive eyes follow you with visible irritation. The room has the startled silence of a theater audience when the lead actor suddenly steps offstage and walks into the crowd.
“Something urgent came up,” you say.
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