Chapter 200

“To be honest, you are so different from the woman I expected to meet today. But I can’t say I’m disappointed,” Ian Morcant smiled. “Tea?” He offered the tea. “I brewed it myself.”

“I can see that,” Izzy smiled.

“It’s Silver Needle—harvested in Fujian, China. The leaves are only picked for a few days each spring,” Ian said, pouring the tea into the smaller cup. “The growers claim the best batches come from a specific altitude, around 1,200 meters. They dry the leaves in natural sunlight. No machines. No shortcuts.”

Izzy accepted the cup but didn’t drink yet.

Ian leaned back, resting an arm on the table. “The first time I had it, I was nineteen. I was visiting an investor in Hong Kong, someone who believed in formalities. He poured me a cup and said, ‘Don’t speak until you taste it.’ I thought it was odd, but I did as he asked.”

He looked at the tea, fingers wrapping around the delicate porcelain.

“I didn’t get it at first. It tasted like nothing—subtle, almost too quiet to notice. I told him so. He smiled and said I wasn’t wrong, just impatient.” Ian’s mouth twitched. “He explained that some things don’t hit you with flavor or strength. Some things ask you to slow down. To pay attention.”

Izzy nodded and took a sip.

Ian continued, “Later, when the investment went bad, that same man refused to pull out. He said the company needed time. He waited. Three years later, it was one of the best decisions he ever made.”

Izzy set her cup down.

“I still don’t love tea,” Ian said, “but I make this one when I need to stop and think. Not react. Just observe.”

He looked at her, not with suspicion, but with focus. “I knew who you were on paper—in reports, in summaries. I didn’t expect this version of you in the boardroom today. That’s not a criticism, it’s an observation.”

Izzy didn’t respond immediately. She let him finish.

“I think Gregory expected you to ask for permission. You didn’t,” Ian said. “That changes things.”

She tilted her head. “Is this your way of telling me I made an impression?”

He nodded. “It’s my way of telling you people will start testing you differently now. They’ve seen enough to worry. You should expect that.”

Izzy picked up her cup. “Good,” she said. “I’d be disappointed if they didn’t.”

Ian didn’t press further. He simply took another sip of tea.

Izzy watched him, fingers wrapped around the warm cup. Ian Morcant. Thirty, unmarried, and already at the head of a multimillion-dollar company. On paper, it looked impressive—too impressive. And she knew better than anyone that nothing that smooth came without help.

She glanced at the tea before setting it down. “You’re talking like someone who isn’t close to Gregory,” she said.

Ian didn’t flinch. He smiled. “Doing your research is always a good habit. I appreciate that.”

He set his cup aside and adjusted his cufflink, a subtle, almost unconscious movement. “I wouldn’t deny it. Gregory wanted me here. Everyone knows that. He pushed the board to appoint me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t manage this company.”

Izzy leaned back, thoughtful. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Ian replied, calm as ever.

She studied him. He wasn’t like the others on the board. There was no need to fill every silence. No sharp movements, no visible posturing. He didn’t dominate the space; he occupied it fully. Confident without performing it.

She thought about Liam—how he always entered a room as if it owed him something. His confidence was loud, sometimes reckless, always deliberate. Ian wasn’t like that. He didn’t announce his presence; he simply existed in it, like someone who didn’t need to prove anything.

That difference stood out more than she expected.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked down at the tea, then back at Ian. “Then why did Gregory choose you?”

Ian didn’t answer immediately. He refilled his cup with quiet precision, then looked up, meeting her eyes.

“That,” he said, “is something I’ve been asking myself since the day I took this job.”

Izzy took another sip of tea. She waited for something—flavor, bitterness, anything. But it didn’t come. It was quiet, almost like warm water with a hint of… something. She wasn’t even sure what. It wasn’t bad, just underwhelming.

She smiled to herself.

Ian noticed. “What do you think?”

“It’s… fine,” she said, setting the cup down. “Tastes like something I’d get at a wellness retreat. The kind where they tell you to listen to your body and breathe slower.”

He gave a small nod, as if that was the answer he expected.

“I guess I’m not that patient either,” she added. “I like things that make their point faster.”

“That’s fair,” Ian said, folding his hands. “Most people do. That’s why not everyone sticks around to run things long term.”

Izzy tilted her head. “So, you’re saying I need to slow down?”

“No,” he said. “I’m saying people will expect you to.”

She nodded. That sounded more accurate.

Izzy glanced toward the window, her thoughts shifting back to the reports. “Gregory clearly has a strategy. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have backed you.”

“He does,” Ian said. “But I’m not part of it in the way most people assume.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“I am,” he replied.

Izzy didn’t press further. She knew when someone had more to say but chose not to. That was fine. She’d figure it out in time.

“Well… it seems my next meeting is happening very soon,” Ian said, glancing at his secretary. “This has been a pleasant conversation, Miss Rossi,” He handed her a card from his jacket pocket. “I hope we can do this again. This is my personal card.”

Izzy smiled and took it. Soon after, Izzy and Anna were out of the company, driving towards Lawyer Alcaraz’s office.

“Miss, sadly, I couldn’t find anything—any dirt on Mr. Morcant,” Anna said. “It’s strange.”

“Why do you think—” Izzy didn’t finish the question.

A loud bang cut through the air, sharp and violent. The force hit the left side of the car, throwing Izzy against the door. Glass shattered. Metal twisted. The car tilted, skidding sideways before slamming into something solid.

Her ears rang. She tried to lift her head, but her vision spun. Anna’s scream faded into a blur. Sirens—somewhere. Or maybe that was in her head. She couldn’t tell.

The last thing she saw was the broken windshield—and then everything went dark.