Matthew frowned subtly.
“The online noise will be swiftly dealt with. It won’t touch Evans Group, nor impact our partnership”.
“My faith in Prosperity Group has wavered. If we’re to continue, I need a demonstration of your sincerity.” Sprague’s smile held deep meaning.
“Be direct,” Matthew countered calmly.
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Sprague, setting down his glass, held up three fingers.
“I want three more percentage points on top of our deal.”
Matthew kept his face neutral. He saw Sprague’s game, but he wouldn’t fold, not now.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Matthew said calmly.
“Suggest something else.”
But Sprague remained unyielding.
“Your mother was caught in the eye of the media storm. I heard she’s suffered a head injury, too.
Shouldn’t family concerns eclipse your business?”
A flicker of pain crossed Matthew’s heart, but he quickly masked it.
“I appreciate your concern. My mother is doing well, and Prosperity Group isn’t affected in the slightest.”
Seeing his approach futile, Sprague stood.
“Be prepared. If you fail to meet my expectations, I won’t hesitate to sever our contract.”
Then he left.
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Matthew didn’t attempt to stop him. As the man exited the office, Matthew dialed Fernando, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Hold Sprague off for a while,” he ordered.
With that instruction delivered, he made some quick preparations and hurried out of his own office.
A furrow of worry etched itself across his face as he went to the parking lot.
How could Sprague have such precise knowledge of Amara’s injuries?
And why, at this critical juncture, was he demanding a steeper price for their cooperation? The man seemed to be exploiting their vulnerability, pushing Prosperity Group towards a precipice.
Perhaps this was all a puppet show, orchestrated by the unseen hand pulling Sprague’s strings.