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Hannah's pulse hammered. "I acted in the client's best interest—"

"Best interest?" Clare's laugh was brittle. "You funneled proprietary Keller data through Alex to Creighton Bank. That's wire fraud. And Vince's additional share purchase?" The SEC calls that insider trading."

Hannah's composure cracked. "I salvaged Tanaka. I secured Vince—"

"By breaking laws and bedding investors," Clare cut in. "The SEC has the evidence." She slid a second document forward - a formal immunity offer. "Sign this. Full disclosure on who supplied the Veredian intelligence, Alex's role in the biotech data breach. In exchange, Layton Moreby protects you from prosecution."

Hannah stared at the paper. Protection. The word curdled. "And if I refuse?"

"Prosecution. Prison." Clare's voice softened, almost pitying. "You're collateral in a war you don't understand. They'll bury you."

Hannah's fingers traced the edge of the immunity offer. The sterile office air suddenly felt suffocating. Her victories were now being portrayed as crimes.

She stood, looming over the desk. "Immunity means giving you my contacts. Information that would be very valuable to you."

Clare's composure fractured. "You're drowning, Hannah! Sign it!"

Hannah snatched the document, scanning its dense legalese. "Immunity in exchange for naming names?" She tossed it back. "This isn't protection - it's a trap. You want to know my sources to benefit Layton Moreby."

Clare's knuckles whitened. "You're facing fifteen years, Hannah. Sign."

Hannah leaned closer, her voice a blade. "You really think I'd fall for this? You're bluffing."

Clare flinched. "You spoke about best interests earlier. This is in your own best interests."

"I'll make my own decisions about my own best interests. Goodbye, Clare."

Hannah turned sharply, heels clicking across the polished floor. She didn't look back as she left the office, sweeping past Joanne, pulling out her phone as she exited the building. She called Rossi, relaying Clare's arguments - SEC, subpoenas, insider trading, immunity.

"Immunity?" Rossi scoffed. "That's a fishing expedition. They have nothing solid. Tanaka's recovery used publicly available Keller patent filings. And Vince's share purchase? I gave you market rumors, not insider information. They're trying to scare you into giving up your network."

Hannah found Rossi's certainty a buoy in the sudden storm. "Clare mentioned a subpoena for Alex."

"Standard intimidation," Rossi countered. "They'll lean hard, but Alex knows the drill. He ran validation against Tanaka's own benchmarks. Public filings. Creighton Bank received aggregated analytics, not raw Keller IP. Thin ice for the SEC." His voice sharpened. "The real play? Clare's after your rolodex. Who gave you the Veredian tip? Who whispered about Tanaka's board fractures? That immunity would have given her something she wants badly."

Hannah stood on the bustling sidewalk, taxi horns blaring. "So what now?"

"Exactly what we planned," Rossi replied. "Bolivia. Rivera gets the formal DLE proposal. Steiner's consortium funding clears by Christmas. Hopefully we celebrate in the new year."

Hannah made her way home. Clare's trap had snapped shut on empty air. She spent the rest of the day running through ideas for her consultancy - name, structure, what kind of clients she might take on. She didn't want to rely on Rossi alone to supply her with opportunities.

Business and investor events were going to be key for Hannah, and during the next few days she researched every event she could find for the following year. She needed to make them work for her though, otherwise she would be racking up a lot of travel expenses without reward.

On Christmas Eve she woke to a text message from Rossi. "News came through last night. Only found out this morning due to the time difference. Rivera accepted."

Hannah sat bolt upright in bed, immediately calling Rossi's number. "He signed?"

"He signed," Rossi confirmed. "Rivera accepted the DLE pilot terms. Consortium funding transfers next week."

Hannah exhaled, a tremor running through her fingers gripping the phone. Bolivia moved forward. The Reyes mine would test her solution - less water, faster extraction. Success meant replicating it across the Altiplano. Failure spelt disaster. She pushed the thought aside. "And Steiner?"

"Funds cleared," Rossi replied. "Celebrate tonight?"

"I'm meeting my sister tonight," Hannah said, "and I'll try not to talk business too much, but in my mind I'll be celebrating. Rivera's acceptance is a great Christmas present. "

"Enjoy the holidays. Next year, we see what happens in Bolivia, we explore new challenges."

Outside her apartment, Hannah could see the city draped in a grey drizzle, but inside, a fierce optimism bloomed. Rivera's acceptance was more than a deal to her - it was validation. She may have been discarded by Layton Moreby, but she'd responded by building something tangible, something meaningful. She knew that she would enjoy Christmas and the New Year.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Maria Wallington. "Heard about Bolivia. Impressive. Coffee after the holidays? I have news."

Hannah smiled. It was good to hear from Maria. She typed back: "Definitely. Happy Christmas."

They chose a small coffee shop for their meeting. No music, just the hum of conversation and the clink of ceramic. Maria slid into the booth, as always her eyes bright and her smile warm. "Bolivia's a coup for you, Hannah. But the SEC investigation's rumbling on. It reached Creighton Bank."

Hannah's latte cooled untouched. "And?"

"We didn't have anything to tell them," Maria said. "Our part in the Keller deal was limited to the separation mechanics and new investor targeting." She leaned closer. "By the way, on the Tanaka front, according to Alex, they weren't too happy with your departure. Clare had to scramble to reassure them." She paused, stirring her cappuccino, Hannah quietly absorbing what she'd said.

"Now my big news," Maria continued. "At Creighton we help with acquisitions of distressed innovators - usually startups collapsing under regulatory delays or funding gaps. The buyer provides capital and infrastructure, and sometimes regulatory muscle, organizing a turnaround. Our directors know of the work you did with Keller and Tanaka, and now with your project in Bolivia, and think that as an independent consultant you might fit in with what we're doing."

Hannah leaned forward, her coffee forgotten. "You're offering me a position?"

"Consultancy retainer," Maria clarified. "Creighton handles boutique turnarounds. We need someone who understands... unconventional leverage points." Her gaze held Hannah's meaningfully. "Your Bolivia deal proves you know how to navigate complex stakeholder webs. We pay you a monthly retainer plus success fees."

Hannah drank a little of her latte. Independence versus institutional backing. Rossi's deals promised to be lucrative but secretive. Creighton offered stability - and legitimacy. "Well, since I'm a consultant, I'm naturally interested in consultancy work, so tell me more."

Maria pulled a thin folder from her bag. "First case - Eridios Recovery. A small energy-tech firm in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They specialize in lithium-ion battery recycling - actually quite advanced for their size. Three patents filed, one already approved, two pending. But..." She paused. "They're broke. On the brink of liquidation."

"And someone wants to buy them? Distressed price?"

"Fire sale price," Maria confirmed. "But they refused the offer we made. Scoffed at Creighton's valuation. They seem to think there's a way out of their financial black hole."

Hannah tapped the folder. "What caused them to fall into a financial black hole in the first place?"

"The familiar tale of innovation outpacing its own resources," Maria explained. "Technical delays caused them to borrow too heavily."

Hannah's mind clicked through scenarios. Stability versus volatility - Creighton's retainer meant steady income, but Rossi's deals offered explosive payouts. Still, legitimacy mattered. "What's the timeline?"

"They've got about two months of runway left," Maria said. "They need a lifeline now. Their lead investor pulled out yesterday." She slid another document forward - a term sheet with Creighton's lowball offer circled. "They refuse to sign."

Hannah scanned the numbers. Creighton's valuation was predatory, banking on desperation. "Maybe they're right to fight. If their tech's good, this kind of business must be worth many times that." She pushed the folder back. "There's a lot to think about here. To begin with, how much is the retainer?"

"It depends on the terms," Maria replied. "Whether the agreement's going to be exclusive or not, for example. If you come in to meet our directors, we can thrash out all the details."

Even without knowing the amount of the retainer, it was clear to Hannah that the offer represented a solid, dependable monthly income. Enough to cover the utilities and the groceries, it represented the quiet hum of security she hadn't felt since leaving Layton Moreby.

"I'd still like to work with other clients," she said, thinking out loud, feeling that it was much better if she didn't have to make a choice between Creighton and other opportunities.

"That's fine," said Maria. "We'd be happy with an agreement that isn't exclusive. It limits what we can pay, but I'm sure we can come to an understanding that both sides can work with. Then there's the success fees we offer. Our directors will go through everything with you."

Hannah nodded slowly. The retainer represented security - a baseline income to cover essentials. But her true value lay in the success fees. "I'll need flexibility," she said firmly. "Bolivia's going to require site visits. And other clients may emerge."

Maria smiled. "Understood. Our directors want you precisely because you navigate complex terrain." She handed her a business card. "Call Sylvia Archer. She handles consultant contracts. Discuss terms and she'll formulate the agreement for our directors' approval."

Hannah pocketed the card, the embossed Creighton logo tangible against her fingertips. Stability. Legitimacy. "I'll call her tomorrow."

Back in her apartment, the city lights painting stripes across her ceiling, Hannah weighed her options. Creighton's retainer offered predictable income - and security. But Rossi's world offered the lure of an international stage and potentially bigger returns. She pulled out her laptop, drafting an email to Sylvia Archer outlining her non-exclusive terms - possible Bolivia visits, flexibility for independent clients, tiered success fees reflecting deal complexity.

The next morning, she received a text from Rossi. "Rivera issued permits for the DLE pilot. Consortium has full funds in place and ready to go. Will keep you posted." Hannah felt a surge of optimism. Bolivia was moving forward.

A few days later, Hannah sat in Sylvia Archer's office, sleek chrome and glass with a river view. Sylvia slid a draft contract across the desk. "I've taken everything you said in your email into account and had this approved by the directors already. I hope you find everything satisfactory, but I understand if you want to take advice before committing yourself."

Hannah scanned the document. The retainer covered her overhead comfortably. Success fees were clearly laid out. Crucially, the non-exclusive clause was explicit. She signed without hesitation. "It's perfect, Sylvia. Thank you."

"I'll take you to meet our CEO and then Maria will brief you on Eridios Recovery."

The meeting with the CEO was brief but friendly. "The firm's been reassessing its consultancy network," he said. There's appetite for external expertise - people who can bridge the gap between strategy and capital. Your name came up more than once, so I'm very happy to know you've joined us. Welcome to Creighton's extended team."

Sylvia took Hannah to Maria's office, who handed her a USB drive. "The Eridios dossier. Manufacturing reports, investor correspondence, everything. Their crisis is escalating. Creditors are circling and one of their lenders is threatening to call in their notes."

"How do I approach them?"

"Carefully," Maria warned. "The CEO is Adrian Thornberry, but he's become paranoid, suspecting that their downfall is being engineered. Financial sabotage by someone wanting to eliminate a potential rival." She handed her a business card. "If you can't get through to him, call his assistant, Lena. If you do get through, don't mention Creighton sent you - he'll assume you're another vulture."

"And if I can't persuade him and he still refuses to sell?"

Maria shrugged. "Then he burns. But you convinced people to invest tens of millions in desert mining tech. Thornberry's easier prey."

Back in her apartment that evening, Hannah went through the Eridios dossier - reports, patent abstracts, production figures, and a handful of press clippings tracing the company's rise and decline. The full story of Eridios Recovery steadily came into focus.

The company's fall hadn't been a story of incompetence. Its lithium recycling process had worked beautifully at pilot scale, reclaiming battery-grade material with near-zero waste. But when they tried to scale up, the chemistry turned unpredictable. Output purity fluctuated, energy costs spiked, and shipments fell behind schedule.

To keep the expansion alive, management borrowed heavily - mezzanine debt, convertible notes, even bridge loans from private lenders who smelled both risk and opportunity. When the larger facility failed to meet production targets, cash flow dried up almost overnight. Suppliers demanded payment, investors retreated, and the Eridios creditors moved in for the kill.

Now, what remained was a cluster of near-operational plants, several unexpired patents, and a demoralized team. But beneath the ruins, Hannah saw potential - a technology that had faltered, not because it didn't work, but because it had grown faster than its funding.

She turned to the patent portfolio next, cross-checking ownership filings. One notation caught her eye - a transfer of partial rights to a company in Luxembourg six months earlier. That was something interesting. Certainly something she would have to look into. She had been thinking that the big opportunity staring her in the face was for somebody to acquire Eridios cheaply, clear the debt away and gobble up the patents. Now she wasn't so sure.

She called Lena the next morning. "I'm Hannah Hartwell, an independent consultant," she said briskly. "I understand Eridios is navigating some challenges. I may have a solution that doesn't involve a fire sale."

A pause. "Mr. Thornberry isn't seeing consultants," Lena replied, her voice guarded.

"Tell him I specialize in saving companies from hostile takeovers," Hannah countered, keeping her tone confident. "Especially when sabotage is suspected."

Silence stretched. Then Lena sighed. "He'll give you ten minutes. Tomorrow, 11 AM. Don't be late."

Hannah arrived early at the Eridios facility, a converted warehouse on the outskirts of Cambridge with a distinct tang of chemicals in the air. Lena, a woman with sharp eyes and a weary expression, led her past rows of idle machinery to Thornberry's office. The CEO sat hunched over spreadsheets, his face etched with exhaustion. He didn't look up.

"Mr. Thornberry," Hannah began, placing her tablet on his desk. "I know you're drowning. But selling through Creighton for pennies isn't your only path."

He finally looked up, eyes bloodshot. "Who sent you? Another scavenger?"

"Nobody sent me," Hannah said, keeping her voice level. "I specialize in salvaging companies with valuable IP. Your Luxembourg patent transfer caught my eye. Why sell partial rights six months ago?"

Thornberry stiffened. "Needed bridge capital. They offered favorable terms."

"Favorable?" Hannah tapped her tablet, pulling up Luxembourg corporate filings. "Vermeil Holdings. Registered to a shell company in the Caymans. Their director? Klaus Steiner." She watched his face pale. "Someone I've had dealings with myself. He's been circling you."

Thornberry slumped back. "Steiner offered to buy us outright last year. We refused. Then the delays started. Equipment malfunctions. Key staff poached." He ran a hand through thinning hair. "You think he orchestrated this?"

"Likely," Hannah said. "Partial patent rights give him leverage. He waits for bankruptcy, scoops the rest cheaply." She leaned forward. "But there's another way. Your core tech works - the pilot proved it. Scaling failed because you rushed. You need patient capital, not predators."

Thornberry scoffed. "Patient capital? Creditors want blood. The sharks are circling. Where do I find angels now?"

"I'm suggesting partnership," she said. "A partner prepared to consider bridge financing - enough to stabilize production and protect your IP from predatory takeover. In return, they'd look for an equity stake, modest at first, but tied to performance milestones, rather than taking control."

Thornberry's eyes narrowed. "That would mean staging the funding. It sounds like months of bureaucracy. We need the cash now, not in fragments."

Hannah nodded. "I understand. That's exactly why the first part would come through immediately - a stabilization tranche, enough to cover your short-term burn and get the pilot restarted. No delays."

He looked doubtful. "And the rest?"

"Released in stages," she said carefully, "but tied to measurable progress - production benchmarks, supplier contracts, deliverables you control. It keeps your operations moving while giving investors confidence they're not throwing money into a hole."

"You think that would work?"

"It's the only way to make it work," Hannah replied. "They'll pay for results, not promises - but if you deliver, the money follows fast. It protects everyone. Including you."

Thornberry leaned back, arms folded. "You talk as if this is already agreed. Who are - they - exactly?"

Hannah met his skepticism head-on. "I won't name names until you're ready to hear them. But they're investors who understand deep-tech risk profiles. They've funded harder pivots." She tapped the Luxembourg filing. "Steiner wants you dead. I want you alive and profitable. Which outcome serves you?"

Thornberry stared at his idle production floor below. Hannah sensed his desperation warring with pride. "Creighton offered pennies," he muttered. "You're suggesting staged financing? How soon?"

"Immediate bridge capital," Hannah emphasized, tapping her tablet. "Enough to restart scaled-down operations within forty-eight hours. Prove your process works at manageable volumes - show creditors tangible progress." She slid forward a preliminary term sheet drafted overnight. "This outlines tranches tied to verifiable KPIs - purity targets, throughput consistency. Meet them, funding unlocks. Fail, investors walk away - no debt added."

Thornberry scanned the document, eyes lingering on the confidentiality clause. "Who's backing this?"

"Investors who see value beyond fire sales," Hannah deflected, leaning forward. "They'll fund the pilot restart now - enough to appease creditors temporarily. Prove scaled-down viability within thirty days, and the next tranche converts to equity." She pointed to the milestone matrix. "Hit ninety percent purity at half-capacity? Funding doubles. Miss it? The deal collapses - no debt, no strings."

"So these investors definitely exist... but you can't name them yet?"

"Names come later," she said, keeping her tone calm but firm. "What matters now is the plan. Not the exact details of the plan, as those can be finalized later. But the principle of the plan. Agree in principle now and the funding follows - quickly."

Thornberry's knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of his desk. Below them, the factory floor lay silent, a graveyard of gleaming, idle machinery. The faint scent of solvents hung heavy in the air. "Forty-eight hours? You can secure funds that fast?"

"Forty-eight hours from signed agreement," Hannah said, her voice unwavering.

Thornberry pushed back from his desk, pacing past windows overlooking the silent factory floor. He stopped before a framed patent certificate. He paused, then moving toward her, extended a hand. "All right. I'm in. Let's see if your consortium can keep up with you."

Hannah shook it firmly, feeling the weight of responsibility but also the thrill of taking control. The path was clear. The next steps were hers to manage - and she was ready for that challenge.

Hannah didn't wait until she was home to send a report to Creighton, making use of the journey time to draft an email with her findings. She explained that Thornberry was determined to take his chances, however slim, rather than agree any kind of fire sale. If Eridios went down in flames then it went down in flames.

She outlined the deal she's struck with Thornberry, asking if the prospective buyer would be willing to accept such an arrangement. Much of the detail needed to be put in place, but the principle of what she'd agreed was clear. She asked if the buyer wasn't willing, whether Creighton had other clients who would be.

She leaned back in her seat, relaxing now and finding the train's rhythmic clatter soothing. She wasn't relaxing for long, as her phone buzzed with Sylvia Archer's reply. "Buyer won't fund tranches. Needs full acquisition. Advise Thornberry to reconsider Creighton offer."

Hannah's jaw tightened. Thornberry would never accept Creighton's derisory offer. She typed back, her thumbs tapping sharply: "Buyer insists on staged financing. Alternative sources?"

Sylvia's response was immediate: "None feasible within timeframe. Creditor call scheduled Friday next week. Recommend you disengage."

Hannah stared at the text, the train's vibrations suddenly jarring. Disengage? After Thornberry's fragile trust? She pictured Steiner circling - the Luxembourg patent transfer a trapdoor beneath Eridios. If Creighton wouldn't pivot, she'd find someone who would. Her fingers flew over her phone, bypassing Sylvia entirely. The name burned in her mind - Rossi.

She drafted a message. "Project requires phased reinforcement. Immediate stabilization essential. Creditors circling Friday next week. Interested in shared structure?" She pressed send.

Rossi's reply arrived before her train reached the station. "What's the catch?"

Hannah's pulse quickened. Steiner's shadow loomed larger. She typed: "Partial patent rights transferred to Steiner-linked entity."

Rossi's response blazed back. "Klaus wants the carcass cheap. How much bridge?"

Hannah didn't hesitate. "A million dollars buys time. Restart pilot, appease creditors."

Rossi's reply snapped back minutes later: "What line of business?"

The train had now come to a halt. Hannah typed quickly, before getting up to leave. "Lithium-ion battery recycling."

As she exited the station, Rossi's next message arrived. "Lithium again. Email the full details. I'll get back to you tomorrow."

Hannah spent the evening refining her proposal - cashflow projections, patent valuations, and Steiner's looming threat highlighted in bold. She made her conclusions very stark, that despite its struggles, Eredios had technology that was clearly worth saving, and if the business were stabilized it could increase in value quickly. A good opportunity for someone to seize.

The following day, Rossi called her mid-morning. "Despite your optimism, there's significant risk in this project. Still, I've managed to secure a bridge of one million, euro not dollar. Wired to escrow by noon tomorrow. I've sent you the full agreement. Signing it unlocks the funds."

Hannah scanned Rossi's terms immediately. The one million euros came at a steep price, a twenty percent equity stake for Rossi's unnamed syndicate. Thornberry wouldn't be happy with that, yet the following week's creditor call loomed like a guillotine.

She forwarded the agreement to Thornberry with a blunt message. "Bridge secured. Syndicate wants a twenty percent stake in return. Funds available by noon tomorrow." Her phone rang instantly - Thornberry's voice frayed. "Twenty percent? That's daylight robbery!"

Hannah kept her tone clinical. "It's one million euros wired within 24 hours. Enough to restart the pilot and stall creditors. Without it, Steiner picks your bones clean next week." She heard nothing but silence and decided to press harder. "Accept, and you keep control. Refuse, and Creighton's pennies look generous."

Thornberry's ragged breath hissed through the line. "Twenty percent..." His voice broke. "Fine. Send the papers."

Hannah forwarded Rossi's agreement, her fingers steady despite the tremor in her chest. Within minutes, Thornberry's signed copy landed in her inbox. She confirmed receipt to Rossi, then slumped back in her chair, with the intention of giving herself a rest. Her mind still worked though. "Bridge built", she thought. "Now walk it before Steiner burns it down."

The next morning, Lena confirmed that the funds had hit Eridios's account. Hannah eventually managed to speak to Thornberry, machinery humming faintly in the background, who confirmed that the pilot reactivation was underway. So far, so good. But there was only one week until the creditor showdown. One week to prove viability.

Hannah could have concluded her work with Eridios at this point, feeling her job was done. Thornberry now had funding and it was up to him to chart a path forward. However, her thoughts kept returning to the partial rights transfer. This had assigned the exclusive licensing rights throughout Asia for Eridios's core technology to the Steiner-linked entity in Luxembourg.

The more she thought about it, the more convinced Hannah became that this dubious deal was a blight on the company's entire future. It meant Eridios no longer had full control of its own technology, surely a red flag to any future investors, especially as Asia was potentially one of its most profitable markets. She decided to consult Rossi on the subject.

"You've given Thornberry breathing room," Rossi said over the phone, his tone dismissive. "That was the task. Luxembourg's not your problem."

But Hannah paced her apartment, the Eridios patent transfer documents spread across her desk. "It's not just about survival," she countered. "The Vermeil deal poisons any future investment. Who funds a company that doesn't fully own its crown jewels?"

Rossi's sigh crackled through the speaker. "Thornberry signed it in full knowledge of what he was doing. You can't unwind stupidity."

"There must be something that can be done."

"Listen to me, I'm not saying you're wrong about Luxembourg. I don't like it either. But we have to be realistic about it. We have to recognize that Klaus has the upper hand. He holds potentially valuable rights and has no reason to surrender them."

"Then Thornberry needs to dilute its value," she countered. "If Eridios develops a next generation process - something fundamentally improved - Steiner's rights apply only to the original IP." Her finger jabbed at the core patent number. "The pilot's flaws are the key. The scaling failures weren't random. They revealed instability in the electrolyte matrix. What if it was redesigned?"

Rossi chuckled. "Are you an engineer now?"

"Steiner's rights are tied to Patent EP-2297B," Hannah continued. "The scaling failures stem from ionic cross-contamination during rapid cycling." She tapped Alex's Keller biotech collapse data from the Tanaka's demo - still on her tablet. "Keller solved similar electrolyte degradation with polymer coatings, a proprietary polymer matrix that stabilized ionic transfer. Adapt that to Eridios's process, patent the modification as EP-2297C, and Steiner's rights become obsolete. His exclusive rights in Asia apply only to the original, flawed technology. The modified process escapes his Luxembourg cage."

Rossi's pause stretched, filled only by the faint static of the line. "You're thinking outside the box, I'll give you that."

"The principle works," Hannah insisted, pulling up Keller's polymer-coating schematics. "Alex validated it under crushing load cycles. Adapt the chemistry for lithium-ion degradation, patent the modification, and Steiner's rights cling to obsolete IP." She highlighted the electrolyte instability clause in Eridios's patent. "His Luxembourg trophy becomes scrap metal."

Rossi's exhale was sharp. "Thornberry lacks the expertise."

"Eridios just needs a chemist," Hannah countered. "Thornberry needs to redirect bridge funds to R&D."

"That isn't a realistic option," Rossi replied. "Thornberry needs his existing funds to keep running. R&D at this point would need new investment. Besides, your whole strategy is flawed anyway, because Klaus wouldn't just lie down and accept your interpretation of what constitutes a new patent process. He'd file a lawsuit immediately."

Hannah gripped her phone tighter, her knuckles whitening. Rossi's dismissal felt like a physical blow. She could hear Thornberry's machinery humming in her memory - a fragile lifeline Steiner could sever with litigation. The Luxembourg patent transfer burned in her mind: "Exclusive Rights to Exploitation in Asian Territories for Core IP (EP-2297B)."

She pressed on. "There's another way. We exploit his greed. We ask Steiner to give the rights back in exchange for guaranteed preferential rates... provided he meets aggressive minimum purchase quotas. In that scenario, he could cash in big time, but only if he generates a great deal of business."

"That's not going to happen." Rossi's dismissal cut through Hannah's proposal like a blade. "This is what you need to understand. Vermeil is a proxy investor that never intended long-term ownership. It isn't a major tech player - it's a special-purpose vehicle - SPV - created by a small investment group. They bought the rights cheaply when Eridios was desperate, hoping to flip them later. They would never accept your plan to meet minimum purchase quotas, because they don't have the technical capacity or capital to exploit the licensing rights."

There was silence for a moment, as Hannah absorbed this information. It was stark. Steiner's Luxembourg operation was a ghost company with no assets beyond the Eridios rights. "Then we buy the rights back," she stated. "Vermeil's owners bought low. Offer them double what they paid for immediate transfer back to Eridios. They walk away with pure profit."

Rossi's laugh was a dry rasp. "Who funds this buyback? The syndicate won't advance any more cash."

Hannah paced her apartment, now out of ideas.

"Instead of a buyout with money that Eridios doesn't have, perhaps you could structure a convertible agreement?" he said.

"Convertible agreement?"

"Yes," said Rossi. "Ask Vermeil to convert their current rights into equity."

Hannah froze mid-pace. Convertible agreement. The phrase unlocked possibilities. Vermeil held exclusive Asian licensing rights - a sword at Eridios's throat. But if those rights transformed into shares... "You mean swap their Luxembourg claim for ownership? Without cash?"

"Exactly," Rossi replied, his voice sharpening. "Offer Vermeil equity in exchange for relinquishing the rights. They profit if Eridios succeeds - without lifting a finger. Better than trying to flog the rights to Tanaka or some other conglomerate, who would probably lowball them anyway."

Hannah's pulse quickened. Vermeil's SPV structure was designed for quick flips, not long-term holds. Converting debt into ownership could tempt them - if framed as a golden parachute. "Thornberry would resist dilution," she countered. "He just surrendered twenty percent to your syndicate."

Rossi's chuckle was ice. "He prefers things as they are now? Offer Vermeil five percent equity for full rights reversion. They triple their initial stake's value overnight. Thornberry keeps Asia."

Hannah's mind raced. Vermeil's silent partners craved quick profit - equity was glittering bait. She needed to contact Thornberry immediately.

She drafted an email, explaining the proposal, but changed her mind and called him. Machinery clanged in the background as she laid out the gambit. "Steiner's rights are a poison pill. Convert them to equity, and Vermeil becomes aligned with Eridios's success." Thornberry's silence stretched, taut as wire. "Five percent?" he rasped. "That's twenty-five gone already."

"Five percent for Asia," Hannah countered. "Or risk losing Asia permanently when Vermeil sell the rights on." She heard his resigned sigh, the sound of surrender. He agreed.

She contacted Rossi again, who agreed to draft the conversion proposal and forward it to Vermeil. "Offer made," he texted.

A week went by without another word. It was now the day of the Eridios creditors meeting, a much more pressing concern, and when Hannah spoke to Lena that afternoon, she was pleased to hear the positive news that Eridios had come through it unscathed

Finally, Rossi's text arrived: "Vermeil declined." Hannah's fingers trembled as she called him. "Why?" she demanded, her voice a razor.

"Klaus countered," Rossi replied, the words clipped. "He wants ten percent equity and a seat on the board. Thornberry's not going to swallow that."

Hannah gripped the phone, her knuckles pale. "Ten percent and a board seat?" Her voice was still a razor. "He doesn't want much, does he?"

She ended the call and reflected on where things now stood. She told herself to think like Steiner. What did Klaus Steiner truly crave? Not just control - dominance. Proof of his foresight. And Shirley Lewisohn had understood that. Shirley's methods. Always transactional. Always personal.

It wasn't just time to think like Steiner, it was time to think like Shirley.

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