THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 75

Robert tilted his head slightly, giving her a gentle nod, but said nothing.

"You’re telling me," she continued slowly, her tone a mix of disbelief and careful inquiry, "that GSK, one of the most powerful firms in this entire sector, is willing to handle the infrastructure development of an entire Mega City, and all you’re asking for... is five percent?"

Her voice dropped slightly at the end, as if even saying it aloud made it more unbelievable.

Malisa couldn’t help but lean in, whispering just loud enough for both of them to hear, "It’s too low, Cora. Even smaller firms would demand more—much more."

But Cora kept her gaze on Robert. Her business instincts were sharper than ever now. She had dealt with men like him before—or so she thought. Usually, the ones who offered too little upfront came back later with hidden terms, unexpected leverage, or inflated demands. This didn’t feel like that... and that was what unsettled her the most.

"I’m sorry, Robert," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly, "but is this a joke? Is there something else I’m not seeing here? Because no one in your position would ask for just five percent—not for this level of involvement. Are you really telling me that’s all you want?"

At that moment, Robert leaned forward gently, resting his arms on the sleek surface of the table. His eyes, calm and unwavering, met Cora’s with a level of sincerity that was rarely seen in the boardroom. His voice, when he finally spoke, held no hint of arrogance—only calculated reasoning and quiet confidence.

"Cora," he began, "Everyone wants to be part of this project because it’s not just a city, it’s a legacy. It’s the kind of vision that turns history into something permanent. So, yes... we’re only asking for five percent."

He saw the flicker in her eyes, still confused, still cautious. So, he continued.

"I know what you’re thinking. Five percent sounds like charity. But if you really look at it for what it is, five percent of something this big isn’t small at all. The MegaCity project... it’s not just going to last for a year or five years. This isn’t a tech launch that might lose steam. This city is going to live, longer than us, longer than the companies involved. That five percent? It becomes generational wealth. It becomes consistent, growing revenue for decades."

At that moment Malisa exchanged a quick glance with Cora. Even she had to admit, Robert’s argument held weight.

He wasn’t playing small. He was playing smart.

Then Robert leaned back, folding his hands loosely together as he continued with that same composed tone. "Other companies would have demanded thirty percent. Some might even push for fifty, or complete construction control. But that’s not what we’re after. JSK doesn’t need to squeeze its partners to gain value. We grow by planting strong roots and waiting for the tree to blossom."

He gave a soft, almost charming smile, before adding, "Besides, what’s five percent of a city that will be worth hundreds of billions in the next two decades? Think long term, and you’ll see why five percent is more than enough."

Hearing Robert words, Cora remained quiet for a few moments, processing everything. Her hands, which had been tense before, gradually relaxed. And though she didn’t say a word yet, a part of her was slowly beginning to respect the kind of man Robert was turning out to be measured, forward-thinking, and grounded in vision rather than greed.

He wasn’t just offering a deal. He was offering trust.

But still, as Robert’s words faded into the ambient quiet of the VIP room, Cora’s mind remained hard at work. She had heard everything he said every logical, measured reason why five percent was enough. And yes, on paper, it was indeed a sustainable deal. But this wasn’t just about paper. This was a legacy project. Her mother’s dream. Her ambition. Her name. And if she was going to attach it permanently to a corporation no matter how powerful or visionary then the terms needed to reflect value, growth, and shared commitment over time.

She shifted slightly in her seat, folded her hands gently, and looked directly at Robert. Her voice was calm, yet resolute.

"I understand your point," she said. "I appreciate how you’ve broken everything down. And honestly, it’s rare to sit across the table from someone like you someone who isn’t hungry for immediate profit. But still, five percent... is too low for something of this magnitude."

Robert raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued but not offended. He gestured for her to go on.

"That’s why I have a counterproposal," Cora continued confidently. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"We start with five percent, yes. But every five years, an additional two percent will be added, until it reaches twenty percent. Once it gets there, it stops. No more increases beyond that. That becomes the cap."

She paused, giving the moment the gravity it deserved.

"To me," she added, "that is a fair deal. It rewards long-term commitment. It creates a true partnership. And it shows that we’re not just building a city, we’re building trust, with fairness, for both sides."

Robert listened in silence, nodding slowly as the proposal sank in. A small smile curved at the edge of his lips not one of victory or mockery, but of admiration.

He let out a quiet chuckle and leaned forward slightly.

"Well," he said, "you’re the one proposing that now. Not me. I was just fine with the five percent."

His eyes gleamed, not just from the terms of the deal, but from the woman in front of him sharp, composed, firm yet diplomatic.

"But since it’s coming from you," he continued smoothly, "I’ll accept it. We’ll include it in the final draft. No arguments."

Then, as the conversation gradually drifted into the technicalities of the contract, Robert sat back again and studied Cora in silence for a heartbeat too long.

She had no idea, but in that very moment, something much deeper was stirring within him. Whatever it takes, he thought to himself. Whatever it takes... he was going to do it. He didn’t just want the contract. He wanted her. He wanted Cora.