1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 345 The 51% Bottom Line

The atmosphere in the office was heavier than the sea ice in the deep winter of Reeves.

The royal financial advisor, who had been accompanying him, was twitching uncontrollably. A gurgling sound came from his throat, as if an invisible hand was gripping his neck. He leaned forward, his hands digging into the edge of the mahogany table, veins bulging on the back of his hands. He was almost ready to stand up on the spot, point at Henry Ford's nose, and roar, "Are you insane?"

This is blatant extortion! This is the most disrespectful insult to the Greek royal family!

Using the land, money, and resources of the Greek royal family, to build a private industrial empire entirely controlled by an American! This American even fantasizes about making the royal family a minority shareholder!

Absurd! Arrogant! Delusional!

The financial advisor's chest heaved violently, and flames of anger seemed to leap from his eyes. He had prepared the harshest, most scathing words to utterly refute this arrogant American country bumpkin.

However, Constantine merely raised his hand.

A seemingly casual gesture.

All the anger that was about to erupt from the financial advisor, all the words that were on the tip of his tongue, were abruptly and completely blocked by this simple gesture. His mouth was open, like a fish out of water, emitting meaningless gasps, and in the end, he could only slump back into his chair, filled with resentment and humiliation.

Constantine remained in that position. He leaned back in his chair, his long fingers unconsciously crossing and then relaxing on the table in front of him.

He didn't look at the financial advisor who was practically bursting with rage.

They didn't even look at Henry Ford, who made that "outrageous" request.

His gaze pierced through the bright glass windows of his office, landing on the distant harbor shimmering in the morning light. Several early-rising fishing boats were hoisting their white sails and heading towards the azure Aegean Sea. Further away, a steamship flying the British Union Jack was slowly entering the harbor, belching out thick black smoke.

His face was expressionless. There was no anger, no displeasure, no annoyance at being offended.

Then he smiled.

That wasn't a mocking sneer, a perfunctory fake laugh, or a furious laugh born of being provoked.

It was a pure, heartfelt smile, even tinged with a hint of appreciation and understanding.

That smile instantly cracked the icy atmosphere in the office.

Henry Ford had prepared himself for a storm. He had even planned how to respond forcefully when his opponent slammed their fist on the table and denounced his greed. He was a fighter, and he enjoyed the thrill of cornering his opponents at the negotiating table.

But all he saw was a smile.

A smile that he could neither understand nor see through.

He felt like a boxer who had gathered all his strength, ready to deliver a powerful punch, only to find that he had struck empty air. That feeling of having nowhere to land a punch filled him with an unprecedented and indescribable sense of panic.

He couldn't see through it.

He couldn't see through the young monarch before him at all.

His blue eyes, which were capable of seeing through any mechanical structure and understanding the thoughts of any engineer, became completely ineffective at this moment.

Constantine slowly turned his head, his gaze returning to Ford. His eyes, clear and calm, like a bottomless lake, silently swallowed all of Ford's outward sharpness and wariness.

"Mr. Ford."

Constantine spoke, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear.

I understand your concerns.

His first words made Ford's heart clench.

"A genius deserves his own kingdom." Constantine picked up the slightly cooled coffee but didn't drink it, merely toying with it in his hand. "If all you want is money, just for your few claims about cheap cars..."

The patent.

He paused, then looked up at Ford.

"I can write you a check right now. A check that will allow you to buy an entire street in Detroit. Then, I will buy your patent, hire a German engineer to perfect it, and finally, please leave Greece."

He spoke casually.

But Ford felt a chill run down his spine. He had no doubt that the other party would actually do it. This king was not one of those politicians who only knew how to talk big, nor one of those bloated bankers. He was a true doer.

"But, Mr. Ford." Constantine put down his coffee cup, leaned forward slightly, and that invisible sense of oppression belonging to a monarch began to spread.

"What I want is not a blueprint."

"But it's you, the one who can keep creating new blueprints."

This statement, like a precise scalpel, dissected all the pretense in Ford's business negotiations, reaching the deepest pride in his heart.

Constantine stood up from his seat.

He didn't walk up to Ford and look down at him.

He simply walked around the table to Ford's side and then extended a hand.

That's not a gesture of preparing to shake hands.

It is not a gesture of invitation.

"The reason you want 51% of the shares," Constantine's voice, like that of an experienced hunter gently guiding his prey, "is for absolute, undisturbed control."

"It's so that no layman can lead you, the expert."

"It's so that your brilliant ideas won't be completely distorted by a bunch of idiots who only know how to look at financial statements."

"Am I right?"

Each of his questions was like a heavy hammer blow, precisely striking the softest and most sensitive spot in Ford's heart.

Ford's breathing became rapid. He hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded with difficulty.

Constantine's face once again revealed that knowing smile.

This time, however, there was a subtle, fox-like cunning in that smile.

"Then," his voice lowered, carrying a bewitching allure, "if I could give you..."

They wanted absolute control.

"But the shares—"

He paused for a moment, each pause seeming to stretch Ford's nerves.

"How about we try a completely new way of dividing it?"