He tapped the third stack.
“The operating agreement.”
Daniel Voss.
Forty percent.
Michael read his contribution.
Looked again.
Then removed his glasses.
“This man receives forty percent of the upside while the financing package assumes another man's real estate and credit provide a substantial portion of the downside.”
“Yes.”
“That is ambitious.”
“I had a different word.”
“Keep it to yourself.”
I laughed once.
Michael did too.
Then his expression became serious.
“This is not the part that worries me most.”
“What is?”
“That the process got this far while everyone involved behaved as though your signature was administrative.”
The words stayed with me.
Administrative.
That was how my role had evolved.
Not partner.
Not husband.
Infrastructure.
Something expected to function quietly beneath everybody else's plans.
I walked to the windows.
“When Laura started Laurel Row, I told her I'd help.”
Michael nodded.
“You did.”
“If I stop now—”
“No.”
He cut me off.
“You are doing the thing I warned you about.”
“What?”
“Turning boundaries into betrayal.”
I said nothing.
Michael continued.
“You helped your spouse establish a business. That does not obligate you to secure every future expansion she chooses, particularly one negotiated without your informed consent.”
I looked at the traffic.
“She'll say I'm destroying it.”
“She may believe that.”
“Am I?”
“No.”
Michael paused.