“How am I crazy, exactly?”
“You knew perfectly well Timothy wanted this, and you jumped in anyway?”
Vince grinned, unfazed. “Come on, it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this. You and Timothy both think it’s a sure thing—so I figured, why not make some money too?”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Yates said, fixing Vince with a look. “Sure, the deal’s a good one, but I don’t even care that much anymore. I was ready to let Timothy have it. You’re not exactly hurting for cash, are you? You just wanted to piss him off. This morning you were in a foul mood—so, what, you don’t want him to bring this film under Sheila’s name?”
Vince shot Yates a thumbs-up. “Smart as ever.”
Yates just shook his head. “You really know how to get under Timothy’s skin. Honestly, he puts up with a lot from you. But this time? Who knows if he’ll let it slide?”
“I couldn’t care less,” Vince replied with a shrug. “Let him be mad. Not my problem.”
At that moment, the office door swung open. Both Vince and Yates turned to look.
Timothy rolled in, wheelchair gliding smoothly across the floor. His face was stone-cold as he stopped right beside Vince.
“Having fun, are we?”
Timothy knew Jessica was Vince’s sister, though Vince himself hadn’t figured that out. All Timothy wanted was to sort out Sheila’s situation early, so he could stop worrying about her future. But Vince kept meddling.
Yates had given Timothy the information about the film. Timothy’s team had reached out to the director, but the offer was rejected. He’d come to see Yates, only to catch Vince and Yates mid-conversation at the door.
Vince’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a bite to his words. “If it ruins your day, then yeah, I’m having a great time.”
Timothy’s wife, Jessica, had poured years of effort into this, always supporting him. Yet Timothy never really understood his own wife. Now, with Sheila’s future at stake, he was bending over backwards, and it was getting on Vince’s nerves.
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