That morning wasn't fully bright yet when the soft roar of a private jet engine echoed across the runway. Santorini was still quiet, the sea breeze drifting gently, and you had just stepped off the plane, wearing dark sunglasses and a long cream coat.

You turned to Mathew, who walked beside you, his black suit contrasting sharply against the pale blue sky. Without saying much, he reached for your hand and held it calmly.

"Three clients pulled out this morning," he said quietly—his voice flat, but you could sense the pressure behind it.

You paused for a moment and looked at him.

"Give me one hour," you replied. "Send me the projections and that shaky proposal draft."

Mathew gave a small smile. "I already did. You read them on the plane, didn't you?"

You didn't answer. Just gave a faint smile. Of course you'd read them—and you already knew what had to be done.

Later that day...

In a villa by the sea, an emergency meeting was set up. The international investor team joined through a video call. They were skeptical. They pushed. They hesitated.

Until you spoke.

With a calm tone and sharp intonation, you re-explained Mathew's entire strategy. You broke down each of their doubts, turned uncertainties into opportunities. All eyes were on you. Even on the other side of the screen, a few began to nod slowly.

When you finished, no one said a word.

One minute later, a digital contract arrived in the inbox.

Signed.

That night, the two of you sat on the villa balcony. The ocean was calm. Red wine in Mathew's hand. You leaned gently on his shoulder while opening your laptop, rearranging the meeting schedule for next week.

"If you weren't here," Mathew murmured suddenly, "I think I'd still be rich... but I'd be lost."