A Tea Room.

The air was filled with a rich, fresh fragrance of tea, and wisps of steam rose, blurring the handsome faces of two men.

Thoren sat across from Altsin, as the host, pouring him tea. "This is Golden Eyebrow from our own tea plantation. See if it suits your taste, Mr. Sullivan."

"Thank you." Altsin lightly tapped the table, his demeanor graceful and composed, unlike his previous unease with Chelsea.

Thoren calmly assessed the man before him. This was Altsin, grandson of Mr. Sullivan Sr., now steering the Sullivan Group into a new era. Thoren had heard much about him and had long wanted to meet him.

The...