[Nakamura Financial Support] The Oligarchs extend an offer

Carlos leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face softening as his tone shifted. “Let’s get the pleasantries out of the way, shall we? Business always comes first, especially when it concerns our profits. And of course, particularly if the rest of the night promises so much pleasure and debauchery.” He raised his glass in mock formality, then set it down gently on the low glass table between them.

Isabella’s posture stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly as she braced herself for what was to come.

“Your mother,” Carlos began, his voice smooth but with a hint of mischief, “has been quite persuasive with the country’s... let’s call them stakeholders. She made it very clear that we—those of us who’ve done well under your father—should contribute generously to your ascent. A bold woman, I must say. She reminded me more of your father than you might realize.”

Isabella’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

Carlos continued, swirling the wine in his glass. “Her pitch was compelling, I’ll admit. Stability, continuity, and of course, avoiding any... disruptions to business as usual. Many of us obliged—after all, the alternative was chaos. And chaos, as I’m sure you know, is bad for business. Montesoro’s elites have deep pockets, but their patience isn’t quite as deep. Which brings me to the point.”

He leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. The playful warmth from earlier had vanished, replaced by a keen and calculating intensity.

“You’ve inherited not just a title, Isabella, but an empire. And empires need allies. Allies like us. But we need assurances. Assurances that the investments we’ve made in your administration will pay dividends. Your mother may have convinced us to open our wallets, but convincing us to keep them open? That falls on you.”

Isabella met his gaze, her voice steady. “You want assurances, Carlos? Then you should know that the Montesoro I’m building will reward those who support it—and protect their interests. My father’s legacy wasn’t built on charity, and neither will mine.”

Carlos chuckled, leaning back again. “Spoken like a true Reyes. I can see why your mother has such faith in you. But words, Presidente, are easy. Actions, on the other hand, are costly. Tell me, where do you stand on the new tax reforms that have been gaining traction before your father’s... unfortunate passing?”

The question caught Isabella off guard, though she didn’t let it show. The reforms in question had been a contentious issue, aimed at increasing taxes on the wealthiest citizens and corporations to fund social programs and infrastructure, with a little slipping into her father's pocket, of course. However, he had delayed the decision, likely to avoid alienating his allies in the business sector.

Carlos smirked, reading the hesitation in her silence. “Ah, I see. A delicate matter, isn’t it? On one hand, you need to appease the people—give them hope that you’ll make their lives better. On the other, you can’t alienate the ones actually keeping this country afloat. After all, those roads and schools won’t get built without our money.”

He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me make it simple for you. Scrap the reforms. Promise me—promise us—that there won’t be any surprise grabs at our wealth, and you’ll have the full backing of Montesoro’s business elite. Money, connections, influence—all of it at your disposal. But if you insist on taking from us to appease the masses... well, let’s just say alliances can shift as quickly as the tides.”

Isabella held his gaze, her mind racing. The room felt heavier now, the stakes laid bare. She knew Carlos wasn’t just speaking for himself; he was the mouthpiece of the entire oligarchic class. Alienating them could spell disaster for her presidency, but bending too far to their demands could undermine her power and stall any attempts at changing Montesoro's status quo, should that be what she desired.