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"Complicated how?"
"Call it intuition developed over five decades in corporate law. These American media companies often employ emotional appeals that can cloud otherwise sound business judgment. I suspect you'll find them less amenable to logical persuasion than our typical acquisition targets."
As I left his office with the folder tucked securely under my arm, Sir Malcolm's words echoed in my mind.
Evening found me in my study, the Gardens & Home Television folder spread before me like evidence in a complex case. What I'd discovered within its pages had done nothing to calm my growing unease.
The company's financial situation was even more dire than Sir Malcolm had indicated. The London expansion had been funded through a series of increasingly desperate measures—liquidating American assets, securing high-interest loans, even selling equipment to maintain their broadcast schedule. Their latest quarterly report painted a picture of an organization circling the drain with stubborn determination.
Yet deeper investigation revealed something unexpected. Despite their financial struggles, Gardens & Home Television maintained surprisingly high customer satisfaction ratings. Their on-air personalities—particularly one L. Anderton, whose bio photo showed a young woman with blonde curls and a bright smile—generated genuine viewer loyalty rarely seen in the industry.
L. Anderton. Lili Anderton. The coincidence had crystallized into certainty.
I closed the folder and poured myself another Macallan, allowing the implications to wash over me.
Tomorrow, I would drive to the manor for the weekend. I would meet Daphne's cherished friend, this American who'd somehow earned my sister's fierce protection. And I would do so knowing that her livelihood—her entire professional future—rested in my hands.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd spent fifteen years building a reputation for ruthless efficiency in corporate acquisitions, for viewing business through the lens of pure logic rather than sentiment. Now I faced the prospect of negotiating the destruction of someone's career before we'd even been introduced.
The situation would have been amusing if it weren't so potentially devastating for everyone involved.
Daphne's friendship, Lili Anderton's career, the delicate social dynamics of the Grosvenor family—all balanced on a knife's edge I'd inadvertently helped to sharpen.
As I stood in the gathering darkness, watching London sleep beneath me, I found myself wondering when my perfectlyordered world had begun to feel like an increasingly elaborate trap.
The walls I'd built to protect myself from uncertainty had become barriers that prevented anything genuine from entering my life.
For the first time in years, the prospect of disruption felt less like a threat and more like a possibility worth exploring.
Perhaps that was the most unsettling revelation of all.
CHAPTER 2
Lili
"And at this incredible price point of just £39.99, folks, you're not just buying the Deluxe Seven-Piece Garden Glory Collection—you're investing in your future outdoor sanctuary!" I brandished the lightweight aluminum pruning shears, making sure the studio lights caught the chrome finish just right. The callus on my thumb from yesterday's demo had started bleeding again, but I kept my smile bright as sunshine.
"From the comfort of your own home, you can order these professional-grade tools that would cost you twice as much at any garden center." I pivoted toward the demonstration table, where I'd arranged the tools with the precision of a surgeon laying out instruments. "Remember, gardening isn't just about growing plants—it's about growing peace of mind, one seed at a time."
Behind me, my iPad showed the live sales ticker: £1,247 and climbing. Not terrible for 2.30 am on a Wednesday, but nowhere near the numbers we needed to keep the London branch afloat.
"Susan from Manchester just called to say she's ordered three sets for her daughters!" I gestured toward the phones that weren't actually ringing. "And Thomas from Wales wants toknow if these tools will work in clay soil—they absolutely will, Thomas! The titanium coating resists all types of soil buildup."
Jerry, our stage manager, held up five fingers from behind Camera Two. Five minutes left in what might be one of our last live shows.
The rumors had been flying around the tiny Canary Wharf studio for weeks—Gardens & Home Television's expansion to London had gone about as well as the Titanic's maiden voyage. Corporate was hemorrhaging money faster than my old apartment's broken faucet, and the parent company back in Austin was making noises about cutting their losses.
"Our operators are standing by, but they're getting busy!" I demonstrated the telescoping handle on the masterful weeder, extending it with theatrical flair. "No more hunching over flower beds like my poor Mama used to do with nothing but kitchen forks and determination."
My voice caught slightly on that last bit.
Mama had been so proud when I got this job, when I told her I'd finally found a way to help people create the gardens they deserved without breaking the bank. She'd always said I had a gift for making people feel like anything was possible, even with the simplest tools.
Now I was one bad quarterly report away from proving her wrong.
A phone actually did ring then—a rare occurrence that made Jerry's eyes widen. I kept demonstrating while the operator took the call, secretly praying it wasn't another concerned viewer asking if we were shutting down.
"And don't forget, we're including the bonus hand rake—a £15 value—absolutely free!" The red light on Camera One started blinking. Thirty seconds. "Call now because when we run out of these sets, and we always do, they won't be back until next season."