The morning sun had barely risen over the Manhattan skyline when Lukas's phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. The suite was silent, empty now that Annie and Bella had left hours earlier for Princeton. Lukas stirred from his place on the couch, hoodie still draped over his shoulders, and grabbed the phone.
Henry.
He swiped to answer.
"Luke," came Henry's sharp, no-nonsense tone. "Just got off the phone with Vince McMahon's office. He officially sent in an offer."
Lukas sat up straighter. "Finally? What's he saying?"
"Five hundred grand per appearance," Henry said flatly.
Lukas blinked, then scoffed. "That's a downgrade. I asked for a million."
"And now he's countering with half. I told his assistant it wouldn't fly, but I figured I'd warn you. You'll probably get a direct call."
"If he's bold enough to call, I'll be ready," Lukas muttered, irritation already bubbling under his skin.
