Chapter 67 Rage

Nicholas Andrieux The room was warm with the scent of aged oak and the faint aroma of strong espresso lingering in the air. Across from me sat the suppliers—three men in their late fifties, their expressions shrewd and calculative. I could tell they were trying to gauge my reaction to the terms they had laid out. The vineyard’s future depended on this meeting, and I wasn’t about to let George’s incompetence make things worse. I adjusted my cufflinks, my expression unreadable. “That percentage increase you’re suggesting—it’s unrealistic,” I said smoothly, keeping my tone calm but firm. “Given the current market and the complications we’re already dealing with, I’d expect more flexibility on your end, not another attempt to squeeze out extra profit.” One of the men, an older gentleman with graying hair, leaned forward. “Signor Andrieux, we understand your concerns, but considering the damage—” I held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “What I understand is that my family has bee