Jonathan's brow furrowed, a shadow passing over his features. "That was my dividend."
"The company hasn't hit annual profitability yet. Where exactly are these dividends coming from?" I held his gaze. "Jonathan, that $150 million investment hasn't burned through yet, but that doesn't mean you can move it around at will."
His expression shifted. His tone softened a fraction. "Fine. Consider it a loan. I'll repay it once the financing clears."
"A loan?" A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped me. "Under what pretext? A loan to lavish gifts on 'The One That Got Away'?"
"Joanna Kaufman!" He shot to his feet, voice booming off the walls. "Can you stop being so aggressive? I'm under enough pressure as it is!"
I met his glare without flinching. "And what about me? The pressure I've carried these past five years—what does that count for?"
His mouth opened. The words died somewhere in his throat.
His phone rang, slicing through the tension. His expression softened instantly. "I need to take this."
He grabbed the phone and walked out. The door clicked shut with infuriating gentleness.
I stood rooted to the spot, a chill seeping into my marrow.