Chapter 395 - 395: Kyle's New Friend.

Kyle sat back in the booth, the last bite of breakfast settling in his stomach.

He was surprised. Not by the food—though that had been excellent—but by how fast everything had gone. He had expected more bargaining. Maybe a board of directors. A presentation. Some corporate dance where they sold him on the project.

Instead, Anthony had just… been himself.

No pretense. No inflated promises. No desperate grasping for a deal.

He won me over without even trying.

Kyle glanced across the table. Anthony was scrolling through his phone, completely at ease. An older man—grey hair, wrinkled face, clearly past sixty—but down to earth in a way that felt genuine. Not performative humility. Just… normal.

Kyle appreciated this more than he realized.

In Kyle's world, everyone wanted something. Pretentiousness was the uniform. Everyone wore masks. But Anthony? He drove a classic Ferrari, stayed in the same hotel, and still chose a sticky-menu café where the bacon had been frying since the seventies.

This was the worst place on paper to bring someone to close a deal.

However, this also showed Anthony was perceptive and could read a person.

He was a family man. That much was clear from the invitation to Sunday dinner.

And that, more than anything, was why Kyle had accepted the deal. At least, among the first of many.

"He's real." Kyle thought to himself as he continued to enjoy his company.

"So," Anthony said, setting his phone down, "since we're done with business—what do you actually think of the industry?" Anthony restarted the conversation.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "The entertainment industry?"

"The very same. You're about to sink a lot of money into it. Figured you might have opinions," Anthony pressed.

Kyle laughed. "I have opinions."

"Good. Let's hear them," Anthony was back to his playful demeanor.

Kyle thought for a moment. "I think Hollywood has lost its mind."

Anthony snorted. "That's not an opinion. That's a fact."

"I'm serious. They spend two hundred million on a movie, then act surprised when it bombs. Meanwhile, a horror film with a five million budget makes ten times that and they call it a fluke."

"It's not a fluke," Anthony said. "It's storytelling. People want good stories. Not explosions every three seconds."

Kyle nodded. "Favorite movie?"

Anthony didn't hesitate. "The Godfather. Parts one and two. Three doesn't exist."

Kyle grinned. "Everyone says that."

"Because it's true."

"Alright," Kyle said. "Favorite actor?"

Anthony leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Living or dead?"

"Either."

"Al Pacino. Early Pacino. Serpico. Dog Day Afternoon. The Godfather. Before he started yelling in everything."

Kyle laughed. "So you don't like Scent of a Woman?"

"Hoo-ah," Anthony said, deadpan. "No. That's when the yelling started."

Kyle shook his head. "Fair enough."

"What about you?" Anthony asked. "You're young. You probably like all those superhero movies."

Kyle shrugged. "Some of them."

"Which ones?" Anthony questioned.

"The Dark Knight trilogy. The first Iron Man. Logan." Kyle paused. "And Into the Spider-Verse."

Anthony blinked. "The animated one?"

"Yeah. It's the best superhero movie in the last twenty years."

Anthony stared at him. Then he laughed—that big, booming, childlike sound. "You're serious."

"Dead serious. The animation, the music, the story. It's brilliant."

"Alright, alright." Anthony held up his hands. "I'll watch it. But if I hate it, you're buying dinner."

"Deal," Kyle accepted.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Kyle spoke again.

"Favorite actress?"

Anthony's expression softened. "Meryl Streep. Easy. She can do anything, I tell you,"

Kyle conceded the point. "Mine's Florence Pugh."

"Little Women?" Anthony wasn't sure.

"Midsommar." Kyle corrected him.

Anthony winced. "That movie is disturbing."

"That's why it's good," Kyle said with a satisfied smile.

Anthony shook his head, but he was smiling. "You have weird taste, Kyle."

"I've been told."

The waiter came by, refilled their teas. The morning had stretched into late morning. Other customers had come and gone. Kyle realized he wasn't in a hurry.

This was nice, this was normal.

"Can I ask you something?" Anthony said.

"Sure."

"Why entertainment? Out of all the industries you could invest in—tech, real estate, energy—why movies and TV?"

Kyle considered the question. "How much do I tell him?" Kyle thought to himself.

"Because stories matter," Kyle said finally. "People remember how something made them feel. Long after they forget the details. I want to be part of making those feelings."

Anthony studied him. "That's surprisingly sentimental for a businessman."

"I'm not just a businessman," Kyle corrected him.

"No. I'm starting to see that," Anthony had a new found respect for the young man in front of him.

Kyle set his tea down. The warmth spread through his chest.

"Now I can focus," Kyle thought to himself.

The main mission. The real reason he was here. It was Angelica.

He had the photograph Nakamura gave him. He had a name. He had a city. But London was massive, and he couldn't do it alone.

"Hey," Kyle said.

Anthony looked up. "Yeah?"

"I might need some local help. Not with the deal. With something else."

Anthony raised an eyebrow but didn't pry. "I know people. Depends on what you need."

Kyle considered how much to say. Not yet. Not this first conversation.

"Just someone who knows the city. Can ask questions without drawing attention. Discreet."

Anthony nodded slowly. "Discreet is expensive."

"Money's not an issue."

"I figured." Anthony picked up his tea, took a sip. "Give me a couple days. I'll make some calls. No promises."

"That's all I ask."

Anthony set his cup down. "This something I should be worried about?"

Kyle met his eyes. "No. Not at all!" Kyle laughed it off.

Anthony held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright. Sunday dinner. We'll talk more then. Just—no business at the table. My wife's rule."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Kyle said with a chuckle.

They stood, shook hands, and walked out into the London morning.

The Ferrari gleamed under the grey sky. Kyle's phone buzzed—a message from Cassandra asking if he was okay. He typed back a quick fine, be back soon and slipped the phone into his pocket.

He had a deal. A new acquaintance. A city to search.

And, hopefully soon, someone who could help him find what he was looking for.