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He places the envelope on the table between us. I make no move to take it.
"What's this?"
"A peace offering." He sits back, his expression uncharacteristically open. "The patent claim against Lumière'shardware design has been withdrawn. You'll find the official documentation there, along with a joint press release announcing a collaborative approach to sustainable luxury initiatives between our companies."
I stare at him, searching for the trap. "Why would you do this?"
"Because some rivalries should end before they consume a second generation." He meets my gaze steadily. "Catherine and I were never going to work. You know that now. What I did was unconscionable. Both to her and to you. I've spent years trying to destroy you rather than facing my own culpability."
I say nothing, my mind racing through possible angles, hidden motives. Grant continues into the silence.
"I lost a child once,.” His voice drops. "A son. He would have been twenty-six this year."
The revelation lands like a physical blow. In all our years of rivalry, I never knew this about him.
"Catherine and I lost a baby at five months." The words are clearly painful. "She blamed me—said the stress of the situation, of betraying you, contributed to the miscarriage." He looks away. "She was probably right."
I struggle to process this information. The idea of Catherine pregnant with another man's child should hurt, but the pain feels distant now, dulled by time and my own changed circumstances.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I say finally, and mean it. "But I don't understand what this has to do with us now."
"When I heard about Ms. Monroe's pregnancy, something... shifted." He gestures vaguely. "Perhaps it's age. Perhaps it's simply exhaustion with this endless game we've been playing. But I found myself unwilling to direct any negative energy toward a family expecting a child."
His words ring with unexpected sincerity. I study him—the man who's been my nemesis for so long—and see new lines around his eyes, a weariness I recognize from my own mirror.
"This doesn't erase the past," I say carefully.
"No," he agrees. "Nothing can do that. But perhaps we can write a different future. One with professional respect, if not friendship."
I consider his offer, weighing years of enmity against the potential benefits of peace. Finally, I reach for the envelope.
"I'll review these," I say, neither accepting nor rejecting his proposition outright. "And discuss them with my team."
He nods, accepting this measured response. "That's all I ask. And Roman—congratulations again. Fatherhood is... transformative. Even when it ends in loss."
We part with a handshake that contains none of our usual tension—not quite a peace accord, but perhaps the beginning of one.
When I tellCassie about the meeting later that evening, she listens with characteristic thoughtfulness before offering her perspective.
"People can change," she says, her head resting in my lap as we sit on the couch. "Look at Camden. His public statement defending me against those industry rumors actually helped quiet things down."
She's right. Camden's forceful refutation of the timeline suggesting our relationship predated her hiring has helped shift the narrative. His admission of his own jealousy-driven behavior cast our critics in a less flattering light, making them appear similarly motivated by envy rather than ethical concerns.
"Perhaps," I concede. "Though I'm not ready to invite either of them for dinner."
She laughs, the sound warming me from within. "No dinner invitations necessary. But maybe... professional détente?"
"I'll consider it." I run my hand over the gentle swell of her stomach, still marveling at the miracle contained within. "For the sake of our child's future industry networking opportunities."
"Very magnanimous," she teases, covering my hand with her own.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights glimmering beyond the windows.
Tomorrow brings the board meeting where I'll announce the reorganization plan placing Cassie's new brand as the centerpiece of Elysian's innovation strategy.
It's a bold move, one that acknowledges her vision while simultaneously addressing any lingering concerns about favoritism by giving her project unprecedented independence.
"Come to bed," Cassie says finally, rising with the slightly altered movement she's adopted to accommodate her changing body. "You need rest before tomorrow's board presentation."