Chapter 24
ADAIR
Adair walked into the conference room from a working lunch and two unread texts from his Tate blinking on his phone.
He could wait—he’d call him back. Right now, his focus was locked on the whiteboard full of projections and the file folder marked Pillar Grove / Aderra LLC – Confidential already sitting at the head of the table.
“Afternoon, Dayne,” said Nigel, one of the firm’s senior partners, standing by the glass wall with a clicker in his hand and a legal pad under his arm. “Glad you could make it. This one’s big. “Appreciate you hopping in. We’ve got a time-sensitive situation.”
Adair nodded, smoothing a hand over his beard as he took his seat. “I read the preliminary intake. Tech-backed venture acquisition, lots of moving parts.”
“More than you know.” Nigel clicked the projector on. A clean set of slide decks lit the far wall, bullet-pointed with every corporate buzzword under the sun: “spin-off structuring,” “intellectual property retention,” “funding round security,” and “equity dilution forecasting.”
Classic.
“This is Pillar Grove’s official divestment from its incubated startup Aderra,” Nigel began, clicking forward.
“Which, as you’ll see, is slated to go public by Q3 if things stay on track…
but they’ve brought us in specifically to finalize the asset transfer documentation, navigate valuation integrity, and handle all vendor and licensing agreements—internal and external. ”
Adair flipped open the folder. Everything was structured—streamlined but one name caught his eye.
Founder/Lead: Sabine Knight.
He knew she was building something, of course.
Knew she’d been grinding, launching, pitching, sacrificing sleep for strategy calls and school pickups for deadline sprints.
All of that was clear but seeing her name on paper made it real.
His ex-wife was at the helm of something that’d drawn Pillar Grove back to the table for multi-tiered contract retention.
And now she was about to be sitting across it from him. In boardrooms. On calls. Every detail of her vision exposed for redlining.
Goddamn.
“Dayne?” Nigel caught the pause. “You with us?”
“Yeah,” Adair cleared his throat, closing the file slowly.
“And before you ask, no, this has nothing to do with who she is to you. We vetted every angle. The referral came through Pillar Grove’s internal counsel.
Her name on the paperwork wasn’t even part of our discussion when the deal came in.
You’re being assigned this because you’re the best corporate mind we’ve got on retainer, and they requested our top-tier. That’s you.”
“Got it. Big deal. High visibility.”
“No one else on staff has your background in tech mergers and procurement oversight,” Nigel replied matter-of-factly. “And because you’ve negotiated with Pillar Grove’s GC before. You speak their language, and frankly, they trust you. So do we.”
Adair gave a short nod. It wasn’t ego. It was fact. He’d closed nine-figure deals before lunch. Walked billion-dollar biotech startups through IPO transitions like he was reading bedtime stories. He could handle this.
He would handle this.
Adair nodded once. Slow. Not defensive. Just…processing.
“This is a multi-phase engagement,” Nigel continued.
“We’re responsible for asset and IP transfer structuring, venture capital compliance review, final investor MOU negotiation, and drafting all affiliated operational contracts with external vendors.
The total value is projected at north of $185 million with room for exponential growth post-Series C. ”
“Damn,” Adair muttered under his breath, admiringly. He was so fucking proud of Sabine. Whom he still considered his wife no matter what—the mother of his children.
“My thoughts exactly, she did that,” Nigel said, as if reading his thoughts. “And she did it well. Which is why we need to make sure no one screws this up…especially not us.”
Adair flipped to the third tab—Licensing Escrow Breakdown. The framework was smart, grounded in clean language with little fluff. Sabine had always been precise like that. Nothing wasted. No lines thrown in for decoration.
“She’s handling negotiations personally?”
Nigel nodded. “Every meeting. Every call. She’s not fucking around.”
So that was it. Sabine in boardrooms. On Zooms. Her face across tables. Her voice over speakers—and him across from her— like they hadn’t made a whole life together once. Like they weren’t still figuring out how to breathe in the same room.
“What’s the internal staffing look like?” Adair asked, flipping to the draft personnel memo. Nigel hesitated. Just slightly.
“Legal ops is slammed,” he admitted. “The Meditech case landed this morning and you know that’s eating every available body in litigation and commercial. We need you on this. And…”
Adair raised a brow. “And?”
“We’re assigning Corrine as co-counsel.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
“She’s the only one with the corporate equity experience to keep pace,” Nigel added.
“And she’s already familiar with Pillar Grove’s execs from a DEI compliance project she did last year.
This isn’t ideal, I know but the clock’s ticking on their exclusivity clause, and we need to finalize escrow terms by end of quarter. ”
Adair didn’t tighten his jaw. Didn’t scowl.
Just leaned back, rubbed his temple once, and let the silence stretch.
He and Corrine hadn’t worked a case together since everything went to hell.
Not since the kiss. Not since the night Sabine gave birth to their stillborn daughter alone while he was unreachable with Corrine in Midtown.
Since the day she walked into his firm claiming she’d been headhunted, Adair had kept his distance.
Just to cover himself, he told Nigel about their history and because Nigel was old school—still thought law was a man’s game—he and the other senior partners backed Adair completely.
Said if it ever came down to it, it’d be him or her but they couldn’t just fire Corrine without risking a lawsuit.
Now he was about to walk into a case with Corrine…on behalf of Sabine. God, life had jokes.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll brief Corrine, but I want sole lead authority. Any internal conflicts, they come to me. Not her.”
Nigel nodded. “Done.”
Adair stood, gathering the files into a neat stack.
He could be professional. He’d built his entire career on poise, on making everything look clean even when it wasn’t.
If Sabine could trust him enough to let his name be anywhere near Aderra’s future, he’d damn well earn it.
He left the room and headed down the hall, heart thudding a little too hard in his chest. Not because of Corrine.
Not even because of the firm but every step closer to this deal felt like stepping closer to Sabine again.
Adair didn’t slow his steps. The longer he waited, the more room he left for bullshit, and he didn’t have time—or the patience—for any of that today. He paused outside her door. It was cracked open like she wanted someone to walk in. Like she was waiting. He knocked once anyway.
Corrine looked up, pen still in hand, brows raising. There it was. That flicker in her eyes—soft, foolish, full of something that had long expired.
“Adair,” she smiled faintly. He didn’t return it. Instead, he stepped inside and dropped the thick Pillar Grove file on her desk with a solid thud.
“You’re co-counsel for Aderra,” he said, voice even. “The full transition package hit this morning. They’ve got us overseeing everything from the equity structuring to the vendor contracts. Licensing, IP, internal audits, the whole thing.”
Corrine blinked, caught off guard by the tone. No greetings. No preamble. Just business. Straight no chaser. He kept going.
“Escrow terms need redrafting by Friday. Investor MOUs by Tuesday. I’ve already started revisions on the operational framework.
You’ll be responsible for supporting the capital compliance language, and I’ll handle the valuation integrity breakdown.
” He flipped open the folder without asking, sliding a tabbed section her way. “Start there.”
“Is this…” Corrine picked it up slowly. “Is this the Pillar Grove divestment deal?”
He nodded once. But he knew better than to think she hadn’t already flipped through the docket when it landed.
Knew damn well the moment she’d seen Sabine’s name stamped at the top of the founder’s column; her interest had piqued for all the wrong reasons.
A deal this size? Hell, any deal with Pillar Grove attached came with a flare of status.
It passed across every desk that mattered.
No way she missed it. Especially not if she was looking for something to get close to him again.
Adair saw it in her face now.
The calculation.
She looked down at the file, then back up at him. “I didn’t realize we were working this together.”
“We’re not,” he replied coolly. “I’m lead counsel.
You’re assisting. You answer to me. You know why I’m here,” he said calmly, arms crossed.
“Not because of her. Not because of you. Because I’ve closed deals ten times this size with fewer hands-on deck, and I don’t drop balls.
” A pause. Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t argue.
“This is a $185 million divestment package with high visibility and federal oversight. We don’t have time for games, egos, or misunderstandings. ”
“I…I understand. I’m not here for any of that,” she said softly. “I know what’s at stake.”
“Do you?” He tilted his head.
“Yes.”
Adair studied her for a moment longer. No flirting. No fake tension. Just a reminder of where the line stood now and that it would never move again.
“Good,” he said finally. “Because if you fumble anything, if I even think you’re playing this for attention or leverage, I’ll replace you with a second-year associate and rewrite every doc myself.”
Corrine blinked. Once. Twice. Her posture straightened.