The most important conclusion I reached was that, legally, the company was not dependent on him.
Thanks to his obsession with avoiding taxes through increasingly questionable methods, the company had long since become structurally separate from the larger conglomerate. Which meant that, aside from a few members of the board, I was effectively in charge here. So removing me would not be that simple.
"I've already instructed security," I told Michael. "No unauthorised persons enter this office without my permission. Including him."
Michael stared at me for a moment before laughing softly.
"Oh, darling." He shook his head fondly. "You're so adorable when you genuinely believe security guards will manage to stop a man like Moncler Senior."
"I know, but I need to delay him. Just long enough to put a few more things in motion before I deal with him directly."
At that moment, James stepped carefully inside, carrying a tray with my coffee and another cup beside it.
He approached cautiously, placed my coffee in front of me, then set the second cup before Michael.
Michael blinked in obvious surprise.
"My God," he said dramatically. "Is this for me? Truly? How thoughtful. I don't recall asking for anything."
"Today seems stressful," James replied carefully. "I figured green tea might suit you better. I added a little chamomile too." Then, after the faintest pause, he added, "Maybe it'll calm you down slightly."
The tone was so unexpectedly confident, with such a subtle layer of meaning beneath it, that both Michael and I looked at him in surprise.
Michael grinned.
"This one continues to surprise me," he remarked.
James instantly looked nervous again.
"Well," Michael continued, lifting the cup, "thank you regardless. The chamomile certainly adds charm."
James didn't leave, awkwardly rubbing his fingers together, seemingly unable to decide whether he wanted to say something.
"Yes, James?" I asked. "Do you want to say something?"
"I've been thinking about something," he admitted cautiously. "And... I might have an idea."
"Go on," I said.
"Well..." James began uncertainly. "I've spent quite a long time looking for a job. I don't really like sitting around doing nothing." He took a deeper breath. "So I started volunteering."
"Volunteering?" I repeated, trying to encourage him. "That's admirable, James. Volunteering matters."
"Yes, um..." He hesitated again. "I volunteered at..." He glanced between the two of us. "You probably don't remember. There've been loads of things happening, but during my interview I mentioned that hybrid I admired. The one everyone's been talking about recently."
My chest tightened.
"I sort of..." He looked down. "I couldn't help wanting to support them. So I've been volunteering at their bar a little. Helping here and there whenever they need it."
Michael slowly looked towards me.
"I..." James continued nervously. "I overheard something recently. Not intentionally, I swear..." He fidgeted again. "Apparently, they're having serious trouble getting approval for construction. Or maybe for opening the place. Something like that." He shook his head quickly. "Honestly, I don't know all the details."
Then he looked at me carefully.
"And I just thought... theoretically..." He stumbled slightly over the words again. "If you had connections, if you genuinely wanted to help..." Another nervous pause. "Maybe we could offer them assistance."
He looked directly at me, waiting anxiously for a response.
"A place like that..." he said more quietly. "If people saw you supporting it publicly, it could become a really good example for others."
My heart was pounding so loudly that for a moment I stopped hearing anything around me at all.
Thoughts crashed through my head one after another, tangled together with memories.
I could see him again.
I could hear his voice again.
Was that really possible?
The memory of that day flashed before my eyes. The expressionless mask I had worn while walking away from him. The way he had looked standing there afterwards, shattered, miserable, abandoned.
No.
He would never agree to this.
There was no possible way he would agree.
"You think they'd accept our help?" Michael suddenly asked, cutting directly through my spiralling thoughts as he looked towards James.
"Well..." James shifted awkwardly. "Honestly, I think maybe they would." He rubbed his hands together again. "They sounded pretty desperate. From what I understood, if nobody helps them, the bar might not reopen at all."
I forced myself to keep my breathing steady.
It felt like a panic attack creeping beneath my skin. My chest tightened so badly it took a huge amount of effort to pull myself together enough to lift my eyes towards James.
"Let's try," I said quietly. "Offer them our help. Tell them we're willing to support them however we can."
"And make sure you mention we need a meeting," Michael added immediately. "We should discuss everything properly."
James looked between the two of us again.
"Y-yes," I confirmed. "A meeting would be necessary."
The slight stumble in my voice clearly surprised him.
"Alright." He nodded quickly. "I'm helping there again tomorrow evening anyway, so I'll ask what they think about it." Then he hesitated. "And... I'll go work now?"
"Yes, yes, off you go," Michael replied. "Though do come in more often. Your cute little face improves my entire day."
As expected, the comment frightened James again. He hurried towards the door, practically escaping the office before quickly shutting it behind himself.
The room fell silent.
Michael turned his attention back to me.
But I could not speak.
My mind was still in chaos.
Everything else suddenly seemed insignificant compared to what James might tell them tomorrow.
Even the possibility of my father storming into this office at any moment no longer felt quite as important.
Somewhere between fear and anticipation, I realised I cared far more about how that conversation would end than about the war that was coming.