Only Ronaldo remained behind.
He stepped forward and handed his form directly to Asphalt.
Asphalt raised an eyebrow. "What's this supposed to mean, Master Ronaldo?"
"Oh, so you know my name?"
"Well, you do have a nameplate on your chest." Asphalt deadpanned.
Ronaldo leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Listen, boy. I just helped you get everyone to sign those forms. You should be thanking me."
He glanced around before whispering, "Don't worry about their threats back at the Academy. I'll protect you. Your bank. Your interests. All I want… is a small share."
Zane and the team blinked at the balding, middle-aged man with a lean frame and sly smile.
"Don't look so shocked," Ronaldo chuckled. "I know, I know—I'm handsome, irresistible. But I'm a modest man."
Asphalt squinted, snapping his fingers twice in Ronaldo's face. "Earth to Master Ronaldo… Are you high?"
"I'm serious," Ronaldo said, tone sharp now.
Zane finally spoke, cool and direct.
"Sorry. No shares left."
