Fuego | Triple Frontier

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The lawyer's voice cuts through the heavy silence in the room, her words tinged with a businesslike tone that seems almost incongruous given the circumstances. The team sits around the large conference table, their eyes bearing the weight of exhaustion and trauma from the harrowing journey they've just undertaken.

"Minus the expenses, and our administrative fee, that leaves $6,334,120... cut six ways. Which gives you six shares of $1,066,824. Oh, and I need all of your signatures on the contract here."

But her words seem to float in the air, disconnected from the reality of the room. Each team member sits in their own world, their thoughts consumed by the memories of the jungle, the mountains, and the loss of their comrade.

It's Frankie, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a somber gravity, who breaks the silence first.

"I'd like you to please include my share into the family trust," He says, his voice steady but filled with a sense of duty.

The woman nods, her professionalism unwavering, "Noted."

Will, sitting next to him, echoes the sentiment.

"Me, too," He says, his eyes fixed on the contract but his mind undoubtedly elsewhere.

Val, who had been staring at the tabletop, her thoughts a turbulent whirlwind, finally lifts her head. Her voice is soft but resolute as she says, "Include mine as well."

Benny adds his voice to the chorus.

"Yeah, me too," He says, his gaze distant as he contemplates the choices they've made and the cost they've paid.

" Me, too," Santiago sighs.

With each declaration, the woman diligently amends the paperwork, updating the distribution of funds to align with the team's wishes. But the room remains heavy with unspoken grief and trauma.

Once all the changes have been made, she places the finalized contracts in front of each team member, their names neatly typed at the top. The signatures, though penned with different hands, carry a weight of unity and resolve.

As the team members sign their names, there's a sense that they are closing a chapter, not just on this mission, but on a significant part of their lives. The money, once a tantalizing dream, now feels like a burden, a reminder of the choices they've made and the price they've paid.

The team files out of the stark conference room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor as they leave behind the paperwork, the money, and the weighty decisions they've made. Val, her emotions still raw from the recent events, is one of the last to exit.

Just as she's about to cross the threshold and leave it all behind, the lawyer's voice calls out, "Ms. Rogriguez?"

Val hesitates for a moment, then turns to face the lawyer, her expression a blend of exhaustion and curiosity.

"Yes?"

The lawyer, a woman with a stern but not unkind demeanor, approaches Val with a small, sealed envelope in her hand. She extends it toward Val, who takes it with a puzzled look.

"I believe this is for you," The lawyer says, her tone businesslike but with a touch of empathy.

Val takes the envelope and notices that it's addressed to her, written in Tom's handwriting. Her heart skips a beat as she looks at the lawyer, unspoken questions in her eyes.

"He mentioned your name during the briefing," The lawyer explains, "He named you as the godmother of his daughter."

Val's breath catches in her throat. She blinks rapidly, trying to process the enormity of what she's just heard. Tom had named her as the godmother of his child. It's a responsibility that weighs heavily on her, a testament to the bond they shared, even in their most contentious moments.