Chapter 18: They Got 8 Million. I Got a Passive Skill. Win-Win?
Greg Hawthorne stepped into the consultation room, adjusting his glasses as he glanced between Ethan and Emily. He gave a polite nod. "I’m Greg, the owner and manager. Emily mentioned you wanted to speak with me directly."
Greg sat down across from Ethan, folding his hands together. He was in his late forties, with strands of grey threading through his black hair, and a subtle weariness behind his eyes that no sleep could fix.
"So..." Greg began cautiously, "If it’s about the house, I assure you we’ll do our best to make things smooth."
Ethan didn’t respond right away.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the office—the cheap air conditioner that coughed more than cooled, the old ledger stacked on a shelf, the cracked leather on Greg’s office chair. It was clear this business had seen better days.
"You and your employees," Ethan said calmly, "you’re doing your best. But let’s not pretend things are going well."
Greg’s polite expression stiffened. "Pardon?"
"This company..." Ethan said slowly, "hasn’t been doing well, has it?"
"The wear and tear. The silence in the lobby. The lack of brochures. The fact that no one else walked in today but me." Ethan glanced toward Emily, who visibly tensed. "You’re barely holding on."
Greg tensed slightly. Emily’s smile was thinner now.
Greg folded his arms. "Why does that matter to you?"