Chapter 3

It was Saturday and Hannah was busy around her home, but as the afternoon wore on she decided to go out. She’d been working long hours recently and she felt she deserved a treat. She thought she’d buy herself a new outfit to celebrate her success. She found herself walking towards the exclusive boutiques she passed every day but never went in. She went into one and tried on a silk dress that cost around a week’s pay. She bought it without a second thought.

As she returned home, she felt a lightness she hadn’t experienced in months. The sky was turning pink with dusk, and she caught her reflection in a store window—her posture straight, her expression unguarded. This was her life now: decisive, determined, hers. She stopped at a small French bakery, bought an almond croissant still warm from the oven, and ate it slowly on a park bench, savoring each flaky layer.

Back in her apartment, she hung the silk dress in her closet where it shimmered like liquid silver under the dim light. She ran her fingers over the fabric, recalling Clare’s skeptical warnings about Vince and Vince’s ultimate compliance with her wishes. The dress wasn’t just fabric; it was armor woven from proof. She poured a generous glass of Malbec and toasted her reflection in the darkening window.

Monday morning arrived sharp and unforgiving. Hannah arrived for work refreshed by her quiet weekend and ready to continue her developing career. There was a marketing meeting at 11 AM and Hannah decided she’d tell Clare about Vince’s payment confirmation then. She spent the early morning preparing her presentation and then joined the others in the conference room.

Clare entered briskly, taking her seat at the head of the table. She launched straight into agenda items, her tone clipped as she reviewed quarterly targets. Hannah waited patiently for her moment. When Clare paused, Hannah cleared her throat. “Before we move on,” she began, projecting confidence, “Vince’s funds cleared Friday. Full amount, confirmed.” She slid a printed copy of the bank confirmation across the polished table towards Clare. The room fell silent.

Clare scanned the document, her expression unreadable. She tapped the paper once—a sharp, staccato sound—before looking up. “Good,” she said flatly. “Though payment was never the concern.” Her gaze locked onto Hannah. “It’s whether he stays compliant. Or becomes Shirley’s sequel.” She pushed the paper aside without another glance. “Next item: Singapore.”

Hannah kept her posture rigid, the dismissal stinging like sleet. Across the table, Alex shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. “Focus on Singapore”, she told herself. “It’s something else to learn and all knowledge is power.”

Clare’s eyes hovered over her notes. “The Tanaka Group requires finesse. Their portfolio leans conservative. No theatrics please, Hannah.” The emphasis on her landed like a physical blow. Hannah forced a nod, scribbling notes she didn’t need.

Clare continued her talk, emphasising certain words, such as compliant, predictable and disciplined. Words that jarred with Hannah, as she felt they shackled her ambition.

As the meeting wrapped up, Alex asked if they were going to Milan this year. “No, it wasn’t useful last year,” said Clare. “We’ll skip it this time.”

Hannah returned to her office, the Singapore dossier thick with conservative projections and risk-averse strategies. She flipped through pages detailing Tanaka’s rigid protocols—no alcohol at meetings, formal attire mandatory, proposals vetted weeks in advance. Her fingers drummed the desk. This wasn’t strategy; it was suffocation.

At lunch, Alex slid into the chair opposite her café table. “Clare’s micromanaging Tanaka like it’s a military op,” he muttered, stirring his espresso. “She’s terrified of another Shirley situation.” Hannah’s gaze drifted to the window where rain slicked the pavement. “Fear breeds small thinking,” she said quietly. “Tanaka’s sitting on dormant capital. They’re hungry for disruption—they just don’t know it yet.”

Alex nodded and they sat silently for a moment, Hannah tackling her meal. “It’s a shame about Milan,” he said.

“Why, what’s in Milan?” she asked

“An investor show,” he said. “Several of us went last year. It was a good event. Nothing came of it though, so I can see why Clare isn’t bothering with it this time.”

Back at her desk, Hannah pulled up Tanaka’s decade of investment patterns. Conservative, yes, but with sudden spikes in biotech startups—bold bets hidden beneath layers of caution. She highlighted three anomalies, her pulse quickening. If she could reframe “aggressive” as “strategically visionary,” Clare might relent.

She wondered how free she was to pursue the matter, trying to figure out the office politics in play, reasoning that Singapore likely came under Alex’s jurisdiction and she would therefore have to defer to how he wanted to handle it. She decided to talk to him and walked to the open door of his office.

“Singapore’s an emerging market, right?” she said.

“No,” he replied, “Singapore’s not classified as an emerging market. It’s considered a high-income economy.”

“Oh,” said Hannah. “You can tell I’m still new here.”

“Singapore does get mentioned in discussions about emerging markets, but it’s generally recognized for its developed market characteristics. Why are you asking?”

“I wanted to have a crack at Tanaka, but I thought it would come under your department,” she said.

Alex shook his head. “It’s not my baby. Shirley was supposed to be working on it, but I don’t think she got very far. If you want to take it on, just ask Clare if you can handle it.”

Hannah hesitated only a moment before walking toward Clare’s office. She paused outside the glass door, watching Clare scrutinize a spreadsheet with fierce concentration. Taking a steadying breath, Hannah knocked and entered without waiting for permission. “I’d like to lead the Tanaka pitch,” she stated, placing her analysis on Clare’s desk—highlighted anomalies circled like battle plans. “Their conservative shell hides aggressive impulses. We should exploit that gap.”

Clare switched her eyes from the spreadsheet to the document that Hannah had placed before her. “Your methods with Vince ended well,” she conceded, tapping Hannah’s biotech findings. “But Tanaka detests unpredictability.” Her gaze sharpened. “Play revolutionary here, and you’ll bury us.”

Hannah leaned forward, fingertips pressing into the polished wood. “Then let me craft a disruption they’ll mistake for tradition.”

Clare’s eyes narrowed, but Hannah saw the flicker of interest—a crack in the armor. She pressed harder. “Tanaka’s biotech bets weren’t reckless; they were chess moves. I’ll design a pitch that feels like their next logical step, not a gamble.” Silence stretched as Clare scanned the highlighted anomalies, her thumb tracing a sudden spike in pharmaceutical investments from 2019.

“Fine,” Clare said at last, sliding the dossier back. “But adhere to their protocols. One deviation, and you revert to spreadsheets.” Hannah’s nod was sharp, victorious. As she turned to leave, Clare added coldly, “And Hannah? No Vince-style closures. Tanaka values contracts, not theatrics.”

Back at her desk, Hannah buried herself in research - Tanaka’s annual reports, executive interviews, even their corporate tea ceremonies. Every detail mattered. She looked for Shirley’s work on Tanaka, but found very little and nothing to suggest that she’s been in contact with them. She then drafted an email to Tanaka’s VP, proposing a preliminary call to “discuss aligned opportunities.”

The reply came the next morning: a curt acceptance. Hannah spent hours rehearsing, her voice low and steady as she outlined synergies between Tanaka’s biotech plays and their firm’s AI-driven analytics. She emphasized stability, predictability, and long-term vision—words Tanaka cherished.

On the video call, Mr. Chen’s expression remained impassive as Hannah presented. She noticed his fingers steepled when she mentioned dormant capital in emerging Asian health-tech markets. “Our models show minimal volatility,” she assured him, pivoting smoothly to risk-mitigation protocols. His nod was barely perceptible, but she caught it.

She knew they weren’t the kind of people you should try and hurry, so Hannah waited patiently to hear from them further. Then just over a week later an email arrived, short and to the point, asking for a full proposal. It was a breakthrough and she immediately felt energized.

Hannah knew she needed Alex’s help to put a detailed proposal together, but this was no obstacle as he was more than happy to assist. Taking the information and suggestions he provided, she worked for hours, crafting a document that wrapped her bold vision in Tanaka’s preferred language of caution, each innovative suggestion buried within layers of risk assessment and historical precedent. She submitted it quietly, without fanfare.

A week crawled by with no response. Hannah kept her focus on routine tasks, scheduling, compliance reports and preparing quarterly investment reviews, but her thoughts circled Tanaka like a hawk. She resisted the urge to follow up, trusting her instincts. Finally, an email arrived late on Friday, but it gave no direct reply to the investment proposal, merely asking if they were going to the upcoming investor show in Milan, which Tanaka were attending.