Charity Gala II

"And I'm talking to the other half," Gideon said. He leaned in closer. "The Marrowgates are strong, yes. But they're not gods. Every club that struggles under their oppression is a crack in their armor. You've seen your numbers. One bad season and you're selling players. Partner with me, and we change the game."

Strathmore's pride warred with his fear. Gideon could see it in his eyes. The man wanted to say no. Wanted to stay loyal to the old ways. But the old ways were killing his club.

Strathmore nodded but his shoulders were tense, still a little hesitant.

His shaky hand reached for another drink from a silver tray. The waiter moved past like a ghost in white gloves.

Gideon watched the man's fingers shake with a light smile on his face.

Strathmore turned toward the tall windows. Rain hit the glass in soft taps. Each drop caught the light from the chandelier. Outside, the storm was getting worse.