You’re just back-office support, Clara, so you’ll stay in Chicago while the executive team flies to Rome, my boss, Julian Kincaid, told me before leaving for his sister's $1.4 million villa wedding.
The wedding dinner, now a tense affair, was supposed to conclude with Julian’s triumphant toast to Kincaid Capital’s European expansion. The waiters had just cleared the main course plates. Julian had a microphone in his hand, a forced smile on his face.
He cleared his throat, ready to launch into his prepared speech.
But before he could utter a word, Signor Paolo Benetti, the Italian notary, rose from his seat at the head table. He moved with quiet authority, taking the podium directly beside Julian.
Julian looked at him, confused, then lowered the microphone slightly.
Signor Benetti adjusted the microphone, his movements precise and unhurried. The entire room, sensing an unexpected shift, fell silent. International investors, local dignitaries, Evelyn’s wedding party – all eyes were now on him.
“Distinguished guests,” Signor Benetti began, his voice clear and formal, carrying easily across the large room. “Before we proceed with the celebratory toasts, it is my professional duty, as the official notary for this syndicate transaction, to read an official regulatory determination.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. Julian’s eyes widened, a dawning horror creeping into his expression. Evelyn, at the table, gripped her wine glass so tightly her knuckles went white.
Signor Benetti opened a folder, producing a printed document. He held it up slightly for the room to see.
“This determination,” he announced, his gaze sweeping across the faces in the room, “pertains to Kincaid Capital’s financial eligibility and its proposed $18 million European expansion loan facility.”
The air in the room thickened, transforming from celebratory to intensely anxious. The soft clinking of cutlery stopped. Every eye in the villa was now fixed on the notary.
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