"Right away."
The lawyer amended the agreement and printed out a new copy. Baillie had just finished his call when the lawyer approached him, explained the situation, and asked him to sign again.
"Don't worry, I'll destroy the original agreement once you've signed this one," Ivy said, anticipating his distrust.
To Baillie, the debt was so astronomical that a million here or there made little difference. He would never be able to pay it back in his lifetime. But he understood her meaning: she wasn't trying to cheat him.
He paused for a moment, then took the pen and signed his name again, pressing his thumbprint below the signature. The new agreement was brought to Ivy, and she did the same. The contract was now legally binding.
Baillie watched, a sense of finality washing over him. He knew that from this day forward, he would never be able to look Ivy in the eye as an equal. Anytime, anywhere, she could produce this document and he would be stripped of all dignity, all power to resist. But he had no other choice. This was the only path left for him.
"I'll destroy the original now, in front of you," Ivy said, feeding the unsigned document into a paper shredder.
Baillie remained silent, clutching the agreement that was essentially his indenture, his emotions a tangled mess. When you've been beaten down and humiliated to this extent, you lose the capacity to react.
Seeing his blank expression, Ivy asked, "Do you have any objections?"
He seemed to snap out of his trance. "No," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "I just don't understand…"
"Don't understand what?" Ivy asked, her seated position still conveying an air of authority.
"You hate us, don't you? Why would you help us? Forty-five million is not a small amount of money."


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