Timothy sat across from Hana in a smaller conference room this time, not his office. The room was rarely used—no glass walls, no view of the city, just a long table, a whiteboard that still bore faint traces of old marker, and the quiet hum of air conditioning that never quite shut off.
Hana laid out three folders side by side.
"Before we file anything," she said, "we decide what this thing is allowed to be."
Timothy leaned back slightly, arms folded, listening.
"Not what it wants to be," Hana added. "What it is legally permitted to touch without dragging the rest of TG Holdings into court."
She slid the first folder toward him.
"Option one," she said. "Wholly owned subsidiary. Clean. Simple. TG Holdings as sole shareholder."
Timothy opened it and skimmed. Articles of incorporation. Capital structure. Board composition.
"Downside," he said.
"Everything that goes wrong touches the parent," Hana replied. "Even if it shouldn't."
She pushed the second folder forward.
