Before leaving, he handed Ryan a sealed envelope. “Give this to your manager—but only when he’s alone.”

Ryan felt something unusual about the man—something deeper than appearances. He carefully placed the envelope in his pocket.

Later, when the showroom quieted down, Ryan delivered it.

Victor opened the envelope, expecting nonsense.

Instead, he found a letter:

“Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m., I will be at Valora Holdings headquarters. There, we will decide the future of Prestige Auto Gallery.

—N.S. Rutherford”

Victor froze.

The name hit him instantly.

N.S. Rutherford—one of the founding multimillionaires behind the entire company.

Panic spread through the room.

The next morning, exactly at 10:00 a.m., the man returned.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

Four black SUVs pulled up behind him. Corporate executives stepped out in sharp suits. The entire showroom fell silent.

Victor approached nervously. “Good morning, Mr. Rutherford. Yesterday was just a misunderstanding—”

Rutherford raised his hand, cutting him off.

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