Andrew sighed dramatically. "I can't believe it. You have a Hidden Dragons boss as your uncle, yet you can't even manage 50 million. Fine, I'll lower it to 30 million."
"30 million? Forget it! If you're going to keep pushing, then do it. I'd rather risk my life!" Finley snapped.
Andrew chuckled. "Alright, alright, you look like you're about to pass out. Let's settle on five million. Honestly, you're the poorest and stingiest of all the guests today, Mr. Moore."
In the end, after some intense back-and-forth, Finley begrudgingly transferred five million to Andrew. He stared at his phone screen, watching his balance drop, and felt his heart bleed.
Five million gone over a single simple banquet—it was a humiliation he could not swallow.
The moment the transfer came through, Francesca promptly confiscated it.
"This isn't some secret fund, Andrew. It's part of the collection, so I'll keep it for proper accounting," Francesca said with a playful grin. "You're not getting it back!