“The premium was real,” he said finally. “But not for the reasons they believed.”
The doors closed. The premium evaporated into the air, just another ghost in the market’s endless story of wanting more than what was actually there.
The fluorescent lights of the arbitration chamber hummed a low, sterile note. Across the mahogany table, the fund manager’s lawyer pushed a single sheet of paper toward Elena. At the top, two words: