Florence, Italy (Firenze).
This ancient city, once ruled by the renowned Medici family, had been a center of trade and finance in the Mediterranean since the Renaissance era.
As a place where wealth flowed like gold, Florence became equally famous for its architecture and art, and even today, magnificent historic buildings from that golden age remain scattered throughout the city.
Thanks to this rich heritage, the entire city was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, attracting countless tourists every year.
Among the many popular destinations in Florence, one of the most frequently visited was the Gucci headquarters, located in the Casellina district.
Nestled within the headquarters, where the spirit of founder Guccio Gucci still lingered, lay the brand's most crucial space—the design center.
Inside, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with neatly cropped hair and a well-groomed beard stood before a mannequin, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he held up various fabric samples of different colors.
This man was none other than Tom Ford, the newly appointed creative director, tasked with reviving Gucci from the brink of collapse.
It was nothing short of a radical decision to place a young designer—just 33 years old with a relatively short career—in charge of not only Gucci's collections but also its fragrances, sunglasses, brand advertisements, and even store displays.
"Hmm."
Tom Ford stood in front of the mannequin, stroking his chin with a slight frown, as if something wasn't quite right.
"I think sapphire blue silk would work well."
A voice suddenly interrupted him from behind.
Turning around, Ford saw a sophisticated older gentleman, dressed in a perfectly tailored striped suit, with a handkerchief neatly tucked into his breast pocket.
It was none other than Alexander Bindman, the CEO of Gucci, who had made the bold decision to bring the young Tom Ford from the U.S. and appoint him as creative director.
As his direct superior and the man who had entrusted him with this enormous responsibility, Bindman was more than just a boss—he was a mentor.
Jacob's expression quickly softened into a warm smile as he greeted him.
"I thought you were in Bahrain. When did you get back?"
"I just arrived on the private jet."
"You must be exhausted from such a long flight. Why didn't you go home to rest first?"
"I came straight here because there's something important I need to discuss with you."
The serious tone in Bindman's voice made Ford instantly realize that something had happened in Bahrain.
Gesturing toward a nearby table, he suggested they take a seat.
"Let's sit down first."
As Bindman lowered himself into a chair, Ford took the seat across from him and met his gaze.
"What's going on?"
Bindman paused for a moment before finally speaking.
"Investcorp has sold its stake in Gucci, along with its management rights, to another investment firm."
"...!"
Tom Ford's expression stiffened in shock at the sudden revelation.
"…Are you saying the company has changed ownership?"
Alexander Bindman met his gaze and slowly nodded, his expression heavy.
"Yes."
"But how… all of a sudden…?"
"I had no idea negotiations were even taking place. I only found out after I arrived in Bahrain."
Bindman sighed, his face clouded with unease, as he explained the situation.
Ford, trying to regain his composure, made an effort to grasp the reality of what had happened.
"So that's why they suddenly called you to Bahrain."
"Well, as the CEO, they at least owed me a formal notice. Though, by the time I got there, the deal had already been signed."
Bindman's expression turned bitter.
Being treated like a mere figurehead CEO was humiliating, and his frustration was evident.
"Informing you only after the sale was finalized? That's beyond unacceptable."
"They never saw me as anything more than that."
Ford scowled, clearly displeased.
"This is beyond disappointing."
Bindman exhaled a weary sigh, leaning back in his chair as his gaze drifted toward the mannequin and the designs Ford had been working on moments ago.
"There's nothing we can do now. Your collections this year have received high praise, and there's finally a sense of revival… But let's be honest—until last year, Gucci was on the verge of bankruptcy."
"…."
"Given the circumstances, the previous owners must have jumped at the opportunity to sell when they found a buyer willing to pay a high price."
"Still, they should have at least consulted us before finalizing the deal."
"They probably feared we'd oppose it."
"Ugh…"
Ford pressed a hand to his temple, letting out a low groan.
Had they known about the negotiations in advance, both he and Bindman would have fought against the sale.
"Of course, that's exactly why they kept us in the dark," Ford thought grimly.
But now that the deal was sealed, there was no turning back.
Letting out a deep breath, Ford turned his eyes toward Bindman and asked:
"Then… who bought Gucci?"
"It's going under the umbrella of an investment firm called Freya."
Ford tilted his head, puzzled.
"That name doesn't ring a bell."
"I only learned about them recently myself, so I'm not surprised."
Crossing one leg over the other, Bindman clasped his hands together and rested them on his knee before continuing.
"I made some inquiries and found out that it's essentially a shell company—set up in the Cayman Islands by a U.S.-based family office called Eldorado Fund."
At the mention of a "paper company," Ford's brow furrowed.
"Are they just planning to inflate Gucci's brand value, like Investcorp did, only to sell it off at a higher price?"
"Possibly. But one thing is clear—even if their end goal is a profitable sale, they seem serious about reviving Gucci."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I met with their representative in Bahrain. They said they're willing to invest $500 million over the next five years for a full-scale brand renewal."
That meant an annual investment of $100 million—a staggering sum.
Even Ford, who had been skeptical, couldn't hide his surprise.
"$100 million a year… That's more than Gucci's net profit from last year."
"And they want you and me to stay on board and continue leading Gucci, just as we have been. Oh, and they're offering to double our current salaries—with a guaranteed five-year contract."
"They actually made that offer?"
Ford's brows knitted together in disbelief.
"Yes. They even showed me the contract, detailing everything, and said if I liked the terms, I could sign on the spot."
Bindman nodded firmly.
If they had gone as far as presenting a formal contract, it wasn't just a bluff to reassure them—it was a serious proposal.
Besides, Bindman would have gone through the contract meticulously, making sure it was legitimate.
Then, suddenly, a thought flashed through Ford's mind. His head snapped up.
"Wait… You didn't actually sign it, did you?"
"Of course not. I told them I'd discuss it with you first before giving an answer."
"You did the right thing."
Only then did Ford's expression relax.
Bindman leaned forward slightly, his voice growing more serious.
"This sudden sale caught me off guard, but considering the massive investment and other factors, Freya might actually be a better option than Investcorp. What do you think?"
"Are you considering accepting their offer?"
"To be honest, it's not a bad deal."
Bindman's response was surprisingly positive.
Ford couldn't argue with that—he felt the same way.
"What about you? What do you plan to do?"
Ford stroked his chin, lost in thought. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"I've only just begun. I can't leave without seeing the results of my work. If you're staying, then so will I."
"Good decision."
Bindman's face brightened. He had secretly worried about how he'd fill Ford's role if he decided to leave.
"But I have one condition."
"Go on."
Ford met Bindman's gaze, his resolve firm.
"Before making a final decision, I want to meet the true owner of this so-called 'paper company' in person."
Bindman immediately understood his reasoning.
"You want to confirm whether they're genuinely committed to reviving Gucci?"
"Exactly."
Ford nodded, his voice unwavering.
"Rather than just hearing empty words, I want to look them in the eye and see if they mean it."
"That's fair."
Ford needed to sit face-to-face with the new owner to determine whether their promises were genuine—or just corporate fluff.
He wasn't about to waste his prime years being fooled by sweet talk and empty guarantees.
"If it turns out to be all smoke and mirrors, then I'll walk away and find another path."
* * *
The Plaza Hotel, New York
Late in the morning, Seok-won was running on a treadmill at the luxurious fitness center of the hotel, dressed in comfortable workout clothes.
Beyond the large glass windows in front of him, the towering skyscrapers of New York and the lush greenery of Central Park stretched out in a breathtaking view.
However, Seok-won had no time to admire the scenery. Completely drenched in sweat, he had no idea how long he had been running.
After sprinting at full speed for what felt like an eternity, he finally pressed a button to slow down the treadmill, gradually easing into a walk to steady his ragged breathing.
Once the treadmill came to a complete stop, he stepped off, and Baucus, who had been waiting nearby, handed him a towel.
"Thanks."
Seok-won wiped the sweat off his face, then grabbed the tumbler resting on the bench and took a sip of his sports drink.
After quenching his thirst, he handed the towel back to Baucus and made his way toward the pec deck machine to work on his chest muscles.
At this hour, the fitness center was nearly empty, allowing him to move freely between equipment as if he had rented out the entire place.
Just as he settled into the seat and was about to begin his workout, Baucus approached him.
"Boss, it's a call from Landon."
Seok-won relaxed his posture and took the phone Baucus handed him.
"It's me."
[Apologies for interrupting your workout.]
"It's fine. What's going on?"
[You previously instructed us to ensure that Gucci's CEO, Alexander Bindman, and Creative Director, Tom Ford, remained in their positions no matter what.]
"Yes, and?"
Seok-won narrowed his eyes slightly.
[As per your request, we made them an extremely generous offer to stay. However, before making their decision, they've requested to meet you in person.]
"Me?"
Caught off guard, Seok-won tilted his head.
[Yes. It seems they want to hear directly from you about your plans for the brand.]
"Hmm, I see."
[Should I decline?]
Landon asked cautiously.
"No, since my U.S. schedule is almost wrapped up, I'll stop by Italy on my way back to Korea."
[Are you sure you want to meet them?]
A small smile formed on Seok-won's lips as he held the phone to his ear.
"They're talented individuals who will make me a lot of money. Meeting them is the least I can do. Besides, I was planning to see them eventually—this just saves me the trouble of arranging it myself."
[Understood. I'll check the schedule and set up the meeting.]
"Do that."
Ending the call, Seok-won returned the phone to Baucus.
"Tom Ford, huh… I wonder what the young version of a future giant in the fashion world looks like."
Murmuring to himself, Seok-won leaned back against the seat, adjusted his posture, and gripped the handles, resuming his workout.