For a second, nobody breathed. Then Samuel continued, slow and measured, as if every syllable weighed a pound.
"I wanted to do business with MK. Believe me, I did. This studio shaped my early career, and I was ready to honor your request, accept the contract just as it was no fuss because our history goes back a long way."
At that moment his eyes flicked to the posters of his biggest hits, as if to remind everyone of that history. "But from the look of things," he went on, "you folks don't appreciate me—not the way you should." He swept his gaze across the room, lingering on each face. "Since you don't honor me enough, I'll stand by my original demands."
He sat back in his chair, calm and composed, yet every word felt like a turn of the screw. "I'm giving MK Entertainment three days exactly seventy-two hours to decide."
Immediately a hush swept over the table. Even the hum of the air-conditioning seemed to fade. Samuel's final words cut through the silence like a blade.
