Adrian Frederick Hawthorne arrived punctually, as I expected. The café was quiet, private, and neutral—no distractions, no audience. I had chosen it for the simplicity of the transaction. Nothing more. Nothing less. He gave the nod and slid into the seat opposite me. “Adrian,” he said, voice smooth. “To what do I owe this meeting?” “I have a proposal,” I said, placing a folder on the table. The weight of it alone made him glance down, eyebrows raising slightly. “A proposal?” he said, leaning back. I nodded, glancing down at the file, “I heard your company is going through a rough patch,” I started. Vivian's scandal seems to have hit more than I expected I saw his jaw tighten, he knew I was the one behind it “I can get you back on your feet" I continued, "with even a ten percent increase in revenue. Guaranteed.” Hawthorne didn’t flinch. But I saw the flicker in his eyes—the calculation, the intrigue. He shifted slightly, a professional courtesy masking interest. “And the ca
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