Jillian turned, her breath catching as he opened it. The diamond was modest by Maxwell standards, but it was the promise behind it that mattered.

"I’ve spent my life building things that can be bought and sold," Reed said, looking directly into her eyes. "I want to build something that lasts forever. No contracts, no fine print. Just us."

Jillian didn't need a boardroom to make a decision. She closed the distance between them, her "yes" lost against his lips, marking the start of the only deal Reed ever cared about keeping. If you'd like to dive deeper into this world, let me know:

I can to exactly what you want to see!

The mahogany walls of the Maxwell boardroom felt like they were closing in on Reed. He had just closed a multi-billion dollar merger, but the victory tasted like dust. As he adjusted his cufflinks, he realized he wasn't thinking about the ROI; he was thinking about the way Jillian had laughed that morning when he’d tried—and failed—to make pancakes.

"And I realized I don't want to spend my nights celebrating with board members anymore," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket—not as a display of wealth, but as a silent vow.

Jillian was the only person who didn’t look at him and see a "Maxwell." To her, he wasn't a CEO or a legacy; he was just Reed.