2025-05-13 16:57:32Dr. McCormick arrived at the restaurant less than ten minutes after receiving Jerry’s call. He burst in with urgency, his face tight with concern—but not for the right reasons. His suit jacket flapped as he made his way to the table where his son stood waiting, surrounded by Sarah, Trisha, Max, Roland, and, at the head of the table, Arnold Brick.
“What’s going on here?” Dr. McCormick asked, eyes scanning the tense group.
Jerry stepped forward with a satisfied grin. “Dad, you’re not going to believe this—Arnold Brick here just made an offer that could change the fate of the school.”
Arnold didn’t rise, but he gave a nod of acknowledgement and crossed one leg over the other, calm and composed.
Jerry continued, “He’s offering twenty-five million dollars to the school’s account. But there’s a condition. Sarah has to agree to date him.”
Dr. McCormick raised his brows, taking a moment to process. “Twenty-five million?”
Arnold clarified, “A wire transfer. Straight to the school's development fund. No gimmicks.”
Dr. McCormick’s eyes gleamed for a brief moment before flicking to Sarah. “And all he’s asking for... is a relationship with you?”
Sarah’s eyes flared with disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
Dr. McCormick turned to Arnold again. “Is this just a date, or are we talking about something more... intimate?”
Arnold gave a small smirk. “She’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
The principal turned back to Sarah, his expression tightening. “Look, Sarah, I know this might sound... unsavory. But you need to consider the bigger picture. This isn’t just about you. With that money, we can open three new labs, fund scholarships—students like Max and Roland could benefit directly.”
Trisha’s mouth dropped open. “Are you actually suggesting she prostitute herself for the benefit of the school?”
Dr. McCormick didn’t flinch. “I’m saying that one night of sacrifice could solve problems for hundreds of students.”
Sarah pushed back her chair and stood. “This is disgusting.”
Dr. McCormick raised a hand. “Just think it over.”
“No,” Sarah said coldly. “You’ve already made yourself clear.”
Trisha chimed in. “If you think for one second we’re going to keep quiet about this, think again. I’ll call my father tonight.”
Sarah added, “So will I. I’m sure the school board would love to hear how their principal supports coercive sex-for-donation deals.”
Dr. McCormick stiffened at that. His lips parted, but Arnold raised a finger.
“Enough,” Arnold said calmly. “You’re free to make your calls. But before you do... perhaps it would interest you to know just how deep this rabbit hole goes.”
He looked at Trisha, then Sarah. “Your fathers—Marcus Macy and Damion Vernon—are currently under the direct employment of the Brick family. My family.”
Both girls blinked. The confidence in Arnold’s tone left no room for doubt.
Arnold continued, “They’re in the middle of executing a hundred-million-dollar contract with us. And they’re also currently bidding on a three-hundred-million-dollar international project that Brick & Sons is overseeing.”
Sarah paled. “You’re lying.”
Arnold’s smirk widened. “Am I? Why don’t you give Daddy a call and ask him how many meetings he’s had with Brick board executives this quarter? Or much better talk a look at this.” Arnold pulled out his phone, and showed Sarah and Trisha pictures and documents to provide his claims.
Trisha looked at Sarah, her confidence shaken. Arnold wasn’t bluffing.
Arnold leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate. “So here’s what I’m offering now. I came here for Sarah. But now that I’ve seen you both—why not make this a two-in-one deal? Sarah and Trisha. Both of you. I can upgrade the donation if needed.”
Trisha gasped. “You’re insane.”
Arnold ignored her. “You have two hours. That’s it. Meet me at Délurex Grime.”
Sarah’s lips parted. “That hotel?”
“Yes,” Arnold said. “Presidential suite. Top floor. Come dressed for the night. I’ll make it worth your while. But if you don’t show up... those contracts your daddies are praying for? They’re gone. And your families will suffer the fallout.”
He stood, adjusted his coat, and threw one last look at the table. “Tick-tock, ladies.”
As Arnold walked off with confidence radiating from every step, the room fell silent.
But Dr. McCormick wasn’t finished. He stepped forward again, looking directly at Sarah and Trisha.
“And just so you’re aware,” he added sharply, “your failure to attend tonight will result in immediate consequences.”
Sarah turned to him, face cold. “Are you threatening us now?”
“I’m stating facts,” he replied. “Max and Roland,both of them—will be expelled. By morning.”
“What?” Roland jumped from his seat.
“You can’t do that!” Trisha exclaimed.
“Oh, I can,” Dr. McCormick said. “You’d be surprised how quickly disciplinary actions move when someone like me signs off.”
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and followed Arnold out of the restaurant.
For several seconds, the group sat in stunned silence.
Nicolas was the first to laugh. “Wow. That escalated.”
Jerry clapped his hands once, slowly. “Brilliant performance. Honestly, Sarah, if you had just taken my offer in the first place, you wouldn’t be here, humiliated, watching your friends get thrown under the bus.”
Sarah glared at him. “You’re pathetic.”
Nicolas snorted. “You’ll be singing a different tune when your family’s bankrupt. Or when your scholarship buddies here are crying outside the dean’s office.”
Jerry smiled darkly. “Anyway, I don’t think I need to go to Nigeria anymore. Looks like my problems solved themselves. I’m done wasting time.”
He gave one last mocking glance at Max and Roland. “No one’s coming to save you.”
Then Jerry and Nicolas walked out, smug and triumphant, leaving behind a table full of confusion, humiliation, and despair.
The restaurant air grew heavier with each passing second.
Max continued eating in silence, eyes down, unfazed by everything that had just happened. Fork to mouth. Calm.
Sarah stared at her untouched drink, her hands trembling slightly. Trisha looked close to tears. Roland’s fists were clenched, knuckles white.
The
four of them were left alone—with no rescue in sight.
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Chapter 112
Max listened with all his heart and all his soul to Gina’s sobbing, pleading, begging. He could not understand his expression, it was tame and unremarkable. He did not interrupt, he did not whine, and he did not offer a single word of comfort. With the look on his face, he watched the performance with an intense concentration that was far more sinister than any breathlessness of temper could have been. There were tears streaming down Gina’s face; her voice now hoarse in the exertion in her sobbing; her grip on Max’s arm tightened to the point of pain; and she waited and waited shivering for some signal. a flicker of emotion, anything that might indicate a crack in his composure, a hint that her desperate act was working.“Please Max, ” she choked, her voice almost whispered, “just say something! Anything! Don’t just look at me like that! ”She squeezed his arm again tighter and more hardened: “I know I messed things up! I know! But people change, Max! I changed! You gotta believe me! ”
Chapter 113
Days turned to weeks. And the rumors about Ethan’s family kept coming out louder like a fever that spread indefinitely through the elite circles of Paris. It started sneaky; a raised eyebrow here, a cold nod there — fed by the reporter’s article and Max’s almost non-existent influence, it seems. Then the rumors turned into facts. News came in: first it came as rumors in obscure financial blogs, then as stories of great suspicion in trusted publications, details of misdeeds within Baron Industries, Ethan’s father’s sprawling organization of holdings – embezzlement of labor from overseas factories, violation of the environment in their manufacturing plants, various kinds of egregious financial maneuvers to boost profits over their limits and avoid paying taxes. The once almost impenetrable facade of the Baron family began to crumble, brick by brick.“Did you see the headlines today?” a student muttered in the school cafeteria, holding up a tablet displaying a damning exposé. “Baron Indu
Chapter 112
The formal dinner was winding down. The atmosphere was filled with the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee and the low hum of happy gossip. Crystal bleated faintly, the last scraps of these exquisite desserts were being removed from the tables. Max still at his place of honor at the VIP table was having a secret conversation with Isabelle Moreau and Jean-Luc Dubois, Trisha's hand gently resting on his arm.By some slipping pause, a woman left a nearby table and approached Max’s. She was a woman in her late thirtys, tastefully dressed, with sharp and pointed eyes that seemed to carry every detail with them. She had a small notebook and a pen in her pocket. It was Eleanor Vance, senior journalist at a leading international business magazine whose interviews were always savvy and for which she received outstanding reviews. She could peel back the corporate language, looking for the truth.“Mr. Lesley, ” she said with a respectful but firm tone of voice, in a straight-on way to Max.
Chapter 111
Obviously, that evening, the air in the private dining room of the Hôtel de Crillon was filled with the smell of truffle oil, expensive perfume and quiet power. And this wasn’t a networking event, this was a private dinner prepared by the very investors who had just been as impressed with Max as I had. The guest list was carefully thought out, a cabal of European finance, tech and art.Gina and Ethan, having gotten invitations through Ethan’s father’s now waning networks of connections, were momentarily out of place. Ethan in the stiff-fitting tuxedo squished together in his hand after a few nervous glances, held out the arms of Gina who was sitting in a shimmering silver dress which suddenly seemed rather loud with her smile crackling; they were led to a less visible table which was located just near the entrance of the kitchen, the sound of dishes constantly reminding them that they were “outside” of it.“This is... this is stupid, ” Ethan muttered, his voice tight and almost exhali
Chapter 110
When it was Max’s turn, he slowly strode up to the small podium stowed in what was really a dedicated pitch space. The posture was relaxed, confident, the whole audience watching – very attentively – Max, one of the few companies out there. Ethan and Gina had squeezed through at the back, faces slightly wary in deference but curiously so, too.“Good afternoon, ” Max said, his voice a steady, moderate tone, untightened by any jitteryness. He didn’t waver from flashy gestures or unnatural gesticulations. He spoke quietly and with an attractive clarity. “I’m Max Lesley, and today I’m here to discuss a problem that pays industries billions every year in lost income, reputation and enormously disproportionate impact of global inequality: opaque and unethical supply chains. ”He paused, let it sink in. “I’m proposing a decentralized and artificial intelligence-driven platform for ethical supply chain management: imagine a system where every component, every raw material, every labor hour, f
Chapter 109
The day after the gala, the school group headed to the other part of the city to attend another high-profile business networking event at a classy high-rise conference room overlooking the river Seine. A far less official but just as grand gathering, the event was designed to introduce the students to the world of international finance. The air was filled with whispered conversations, the tinkling of cups of coffee and the distinct smell of ambition: executive men in suit and tie walked, unshakable, with practice, exchanged business cards and polite smiles.Max (with Trisha) walked around the room with a quiet smile on his face. He wasn’t trying to get the attention, but it found him. He exchanged quick, polite nods with a number of executives, whom he met at the gala on Thursday evening. Jean-Luc Dubois was obviously busy.“As if everyone knows you here, ” Trisha whispered through him as they maneuvered past a crowd of financiers.“Jean-Luc is very... inquisitive, ” Max said, a faint
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