Violet took a deep breath and said, "Good morning, Mr. York."

Tyrone gestured towards a chair, signaling Violet to take a seat.

Once seated, Violet asked, "May I inquire why you've invited me here today?"

Tyrone glanced at James, who promptly stepped forward and placed a check in front of Violet.

Tyrone said, "Fill it out with any amount."

Violet was stunned. "What do you mean, Mr. York?"

"I

cool and detached as if he was simply passing on a message to a subordinate-leaving no room for doubt

registered on Violet's round

"But Mr. York, I know you're not short on cash, yet my studio is quite modest. It

cut her off, "This isn't a

arguments. When you have money, you can afford to be

telling you what I want. Take the money, or don't-either way,

Violet thought bitterly-He's no better than a

a bandit's way?

Yes, he has the money, and yes,

your studio, firmly in our grasp. Name your price, because no matter what, the outcome will be the same. Of course, you can refuse." James' reminder was subtle, but the message was clear: Sell it, and you'd profit. If not, you'd lose everything either way. It's your choice-celebratory champagne or

regained her composure, yet she regretted not having let Quinn know this was nothing short

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