Divorcing the useless son in law ; The return of the Tycoon

Harbor agreement

CHAPTER SIX: THE HARBOR AGREEMENT

"You are ten minutes early, Mr. Caelum," Thessaly said, setting her newspaper down on the white tablecloth.

It was eight o'clock on a crisp Saturday morning at the Harbor Club—an exclusive dining terrace located on the top floor of the harbor tower, looking out over the blue ocean and hundreds of massive cargo ships.

Caelum rolled his wheelchair up to the round table near the glass railing. He was wearing a simple dark blue suit jacket over a white collared shirt, looking relaxed and sharp.

"A good businessman is never late, Miss Marwick," Caelum replied smoothly, stopping his chair beside the table.

Thessaly laughed softly. She was dressed in an elegant cream-colored silk suit, her short dark hair perfectly styled, her brown eyes full of energy and sharp intellect.

"Sit down—well, you are already sitting," Thessaly corrected herself with a playful wink. "Let us order coffee first. I dislike talking about millions of dollars on an empty stomach."

A waiter quickly stepped forward, pouring two cups of dark roasted coffee and placing a basket of fresh warm pastries on the table.

Thessaly took a slow sip of her coffee, resting her elbows on the white cloth as she looked directly into Caelum's eyes.

"Let us get straight to the point, Caelum," Thessaly said, her tone turning professional. "You bought Dock 14 for ten million dollars. It was a bold, impressive move that shocked every rich fool at the auction. But Dock 14 is just a large piece of concrete with cranes if you don't have cold-storage units for medical and food cargo."

"And your firm owns eighty refrigerated storage facilities right beside the dock gates," Caelum pointed out quietly.

"Exactly," Thessaly smiled. "If you try to build your own cold-storage units from scratch, it will take you eighteen months and eight million dollars in construction costs. Meanwhile, if I refuse to let your clients use my storage facilities, your deep-water dock loses half its commercial value."

Caelum leaned back in his wheelchair, holding his coffee cup in both hands. "So, what is your proposal, Miss Marwick?"

Thessaly reached into her leather bag, pulled out a neat ten-page document, and slid it across the table toward Caelum.

"A joint venture," Thessaly said clearly. "We create a new shared company called North-Star Logistics. Brightwick Freight provides the deep-water lease for Dock 14 and the light-rail permits. Marwick Global provides the cold-storage units and the heavy trucking fleet. We split the operational profits fifty-fifty."

Caelum picked up the document and flipped through the pages. His dark eyes scanned the legal terms, profit splits, and operational clauses with rapid precision.

Beside him, Barnaby stood silently, watching Caelum's face.

Caelum closed the document and set it back on the table.

"Fifty-fifty profit split is fair," Caelum said softly. "But I have three conditions."

Thessaly raised one eyebrow, amused. "Three conditions? You are a tough negotiator, Caelum. State them."

"First," Caelum said, holding up one finger. "I choose the Chief Operating Officer of the joint venture. My choice is Pru Fenwick, the former senior accountant at Brightwick Freight."

Thessaly paused, thinking for a moment. "Pru Fenwick? The woman who wrote the northern route annex? I read her old financial reports last night. She is extremely sharp with operational costs. I accept your first condition. What is the second?"

"Second," Caelum continued smoothly. "North-Star Logistics will reserve ten percent of its shipping capacity for small, independent local businesses at standard market rates. No big corporate bullying. No artificial price spikes."

Thessaly stared at him in complete surprise. Her sharp brown eyes softened slightly.

"You want to protect small local businesses?" Thessaly asked, her voice dropping its hard edge. "Most big logistics players try to squeeze small businesses until they starve."

"Small businesses are the heart of this city's economy," Caelum replied quietly. "If we starve them, we ruin the future market. Power without fairness is just greed."

Thessaly looked at Caelum for a long moment. There was a faint, warm look of genuine respect in her eyes that went far beyond business interest.

"I accept your second condition," Thessaly said softly. "And what is your third condition, Mr. Caelum?"

Caelum smiled faintly. "Third, you buy breakfast today."

Thessaly let out a rich, bright laugh that made several guests at nearby tables turn their heads to look at her.

"Agreed!" Thessaly said, reaching out her hand across the table. "You have a deal, Caelum Vanterpool."

Caelum reached forward and shook her hand. Her grip was firm, warm, and confident.

***

While Caelum and Thessaly were finalizing their grand partnership at the Harbor Club, a very different scene was taking place outside the main factory gates of the Ollivier Group.

The morning rain had turned into a light gray drizzle.

Seraphine stood near the tall iron gates, wearing a plain rain jacket and boots. Her hands were cold, and her clothes were wet. Beside her stood her cousin Dagny, looking miserable as she held an umbrella over her own head.

In front of the factory doors sat two small flatbed trucks. Five tired workers were manually unloading heavy wooden crates of raw materials, moving as fast as they could in the damp weather.

"Seraphine, this is crazy!" Dagny whined, shivering in the cold air. "You are the CEO! Why are you standing out here in the mud watching truck workers?"

"Because if these crates get wet, the timber will warp, and the client will reject the entire batch," Seraphine said tightly, her eyes fixed on the workers. "We don't have Caelum's hidden hands to save us anymore, Dagny. If we make one mistake today, the company dies."

At that moment, a sleek black sedan pulled up along the side of the road and stopped near the gates.

The car window rolled down, and Lucian Draymore looked out.

He looked terrible. His hair was messy, his expensive white suit from the night before was rumpled and dirty, and his eyes were bloodshot with desperation.

"Seraphine!" Lucian called out frantically, trying to push open the car door. "Seraphine, please talk to me!"

Seraphine’s face turned instantly cold. She walked over to the car, stopping two paces away.

"What are you doing here, Lucian?" Seraphine asked, her voice flat and empty. "I told you to stay away from my factory."

"Seraphine, you have to listen to me!" Lucian begged, grabbing the door frame with shaking hands. "The police frozen my private accounts! It's all a big misunderstanding! My father's lawyers are flying in from Europe on Monday! If you can just lend me two hundred thousand dollars in cash to pay off my immediate court order, I promise I will repay you five times over next week!"

Seraphine looked down at Lucian's desperate, begging face.

This was the man she had admired.

This was the man she had chosen over Caelum.

She felt a sudden wave of total disgust at herself for being so foolish.

"I don't have two hundred thousand dollars, Lucian," Seraphine said coldly. "And even if I had two hundred million dollars, I wouldn't give you a single cent. Get out of here before I call factory security to remove you."

"You ungrateful witch!" Lucian suddenly screamed, his face twisting with rage as he slammed his hand against the car door. "You think you are better than me? Your company is dying! You threw away your crippled husband for me, and now you want to dump me because I hit a rough patch? You are just as fake as I am!"

Before Seraphine could reply, two large factory security guards stepped forward, grabbing Lucian's arms and shoving him roughly back into his car.

"Get lost, pal!" one guard barked tightly.

The driver of the black sedan quickly stepped on the gas pedal, and the car sped away into the rain, splashing muddy water across the sidewalk.

Seraphine stood in the gray drizzle, her body trembling slightly.