The good news had traveled quickly. Warma had delivered the confirmation to Sanna, and in turn Sanna had passed it straight on to Anton, who at that very moment was working inside one of his dealerships.
Anton had been in the middle of closing a sale with a wealthy client, his smile plastered across his face, when his phone buzzed. The moment he saw the name flashing on the screen, his heart skipped. He muttered a quick excuse, handed the client off to a colleague, and practically ran into the back office, shutting the door behind him.
"It’s signed," Sanna’s voice came through the receiver. "They really signed off on it."
Anton nearly dropped the phone. His jaw went slack. "It’s signed? As in... they actually approved it? They agreed?"
"Yes," Sanna replied, calm but pleased.
Anton let out a forced laugh, one that carried more nerves than joy. "Why do you sound so surprised? Weren’t you the one telling me that this was a strong deal?"
"Well, yes," Anton stammered, "but, did Sheri say how she managed to close it? Did she speak directly with the Chairman himself?"
The Curts family had fallen far from grace over the years. Once, they had been a respected household name. Now, despite pulling themselves out of the pit of debt they had nearly drowned in, their standing among the elite was a shadow of what it used to be. Their only asset of real value was the list of contacts they still had, their "connection book." Yet connections meant little if nobody had confidence in them anymore. Everyone knew they were only surviving because the Billion Bloodline Group had decided to extend them a hand.
Anton’s mind raced. Did Sheri do something behind the scenes? Or is there really some kind of special relationship between the Curts family and the Bloodline Group? There’s no way she should’ve gotten further than I did. She should’ve been turned away at the door the same way I was.
"From what Sheri told me, she didn’t even speak to the Chairman," Sanna explained. "Apparently, she met with one of the representatives, and after answering a few questions, they just gave her the deal."
Anton’s grip on the phone tightened. His face reddened with frustration. That smug man at the reception desk flashed across his mind again. If there had been someone else there instead of him, maybe it would’ve been me walking away with the signed papers. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck relying on Sheri and the Curts family at all.
Now, instead of being free, he had to uphold his end of the bargain. The deal tied him to the Curts family in ways he didn’t want, and worse, it made him feel like he’d been played.
"I swear," he muttered bitterly under his breath, "if I ever see that man again, I’ll smash him in the face before he even knows what hit him."
"Actually," Sanna said brightly, interrupting his thoughts, "as a thank you for helping to arrange all this, and as a celebration of our new partnership, I’ve organized a joint meal for all of us. So you’d better be there. No excuses. I’ll send you the details later."
Anton gritted his teeth but forced a polite laugh. "Of course. I’ll be there."
Later that evening, after the invites were sent, Sanna and her daughter Sheri arrived at the chosen location. The venue was not their usual haunt in the city center but a new setting, one Sanna had been eager to try.
The restaurant was nestled in the mountains just beyond Notting Hill, its reputation whispered about among the city’s business elite. Discreet, luxurious, and known for catering to powerful figures who preferred their meetings private, it was the perfect place for tonight’s gathering.
As their car pulled into the stone-paved driveway, Sheri gazed up at the warm lights glowing against the timber structure. It was elegant but not ostentatious, its charm rooted in its seclusion.
Inside, the restaurant was alive with quiet activity. Wealthy patrons sat at polished tables, the low murmur of conversation blending with the faint sound of a piano being played somewhere deeper within. The staff moved gracefully, each bow and gesture radiating careful training.
"Welcome," a well-dressed man at the entrance greeted them with a slight bow. His eyes lingered on Sanna, who stood radiant in a sparkling dress, her jewelry catching the candlelight. "You must be Miss Curts."
Sanna’s lips curled into a grin. "Oh? You recognize me?"
The man smiled smoothly. "When you made the appointment over the phone, your voice carried elegance. Now that you’re here in person, I see that elegance was no exaggeration. You are the only beauty to walk into this hall tonight, it would be impossible not to recognize you."
Sanna’s grin widened, the flattery feeding her vanity.
"Mom," Sheri whispered dryly at her side, "it’s probably because you booked the VIP room. And you came exactly on time. Add the sparkling dress and jewelry, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who you are."
Sheri’s reasoning was sound, but Sanna waved it away as though she hadn’t heard a thing. Compliments were meant to be enjoyed, not explained.
They were guided up to the second floor, where a series of sliding wooden doors led to private dining rooms. Their server, who introduced himself as Mayson, opened one of the rooms to reveal a spacious round table with plush seating for up to twelve guests.
"This will be your table for the evening," Mayson explained with a professional smile. "If anyone arrives claiming to be part of the Curts party, I will bring them directly here. Should you require anything, including drinks, please call for me at once. I will be your server tonight."
Sanna nodded approvingly, while Sheri took in the polished wood, the soft lantern light, and the faint aroma of incense drifting in the air.
After Mayson left them to decide on their drinks, Sheri leaned closer to her mother.
"Mom... you know we can’t keep celebrating like this."
Sanna turned to her daughter, a questioning look on her face.
"We used all of the money we were given and poured it back into the company," Sheri reminded her. "Yes, profits are improving, but it’s still fragile. Most of what we have is tied up in business assets. We don’t know if the market will turn against us again. First the charity event, then the graduation party, and now this... this restaurant doesn’t exactly look cheap either."
Sanna reached across the table and squeezed her daughter’s hand. "I know why you’re worried. And you’re right, in most cases. But tonight is different. Tonight we had to choose something like this. Not only is Anton coming, but there are other very important guests who will be arriving too."
Sheri frowned, uneasy. Her mother’s idea of "important guests" often meant trouble.
Outside the sliding door, Mayson walked back down the corridor, glancing at the list of assignments in his hand. He gave a long sigh.
"This really wasn’t what I expected after graduation," he muttered to himself. "And it certainly isn’t what I thought I’d be doing as part of the Billion Bloodline Group."