A couple of days later...
Inside a plush private room of a high-end restaurant, the sounds of a string quartet playing softly could be heard. Crystal chandeliers hung above, casting a soft glow on the luxurious decor.
Jonathan sat confidently, glaring across the marble-topped table at Mr. Atticus.
Mr. Atticus, ever the picture of sophistication, poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle perched on the table, his fingers adorned with multiple gold rings.
"I trust you've reconsidered my offer," Mr. Atticus began, swirling the wine in his glass, a faint smug expression playing on his face.
Jonathan's eyes flashed with anger. "You think by destroying my land, you could force me into selling? You've got another thing coming, Atticus. That land means more to me than you can fathom. Even if every blade of grass on it withers, I won't sell it to the likes of you!"
