The room fell silent as Amelia’s eyes moved quickly across the contract. The faint widening of her gaze did not go unnoticed—neither by her lawyers nor by Lillian.
"These terms..." Amelia finally said in a calm tone, "I don’t think some of these clauses are exactly acceptable."
While speaking, she passed the document to the older lawyer, her gaze still fixed on Lillian.
"I understand your concern, Ms. Rhodes," Lillian said with a small smile, "and that’s why we’re open to negotiations in order to find a middle ground."
The older lawyer adjusted his glasses as he scanned through the pages. His brows furrowed once, then eased as he read further. "Hmph. I admit, when you first presented it, I was expecting something closer to a chokehold." He tapped the margin lightly. "But these clauses... they are strict, yes, though not unreasonable."
The younger British lawyer leaned forward, tone skeptical. "Still, quarterly oversight? And the mandatory adoption of OmniTech’s security protocols for all subsidiaries? That’s no small request. You’re asking Google to alter core infrastructure."
Lillian met his gaze as she responded, "I’m asking Google to protect its infrastructure. You’ve seen what Sentinel can do. If you want it to work seamlessly, it must be integrated cleanly, without conflict from other systems or outdated practices. Otherwise, Sentinel is just a band-aid."
Amelia’s pen tapped against the table, once, twice, before she finally leaned back in her chair. "You’re not wrong. But our board will not accept language that implies OmniTech has authority over Google’s internal operations. Adjust that phrasing, and the clause becomes palatable."
Lillian nodded once, already flipping to the page in question. "Then let’s call it ’compliance verification’ instead of ’oversight.’"
Amelia noticed how Lillian didn’t change the clause, just the wording and as much as she wouldn’t admit out loud...she was impressed.
But the negotiations was far from over as the lawyer pointed to another clause,
"This one right here," their attention was pulled to where his finger lay, "the subscription fee structure."
Amelia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she sat forward again. "Yes. A yearly subscription at this scale? That isn’t a small number, Ms Hayes. Google does not pay recurring fees of this magnitude to outside vendors—especially not for something tied so deeply into our infrastructure."
Lillian clasped her hands lightly on the table, her demeanor calm, almost relaxed. "That’s precisely why the subscription exists. Sentinel isn’t a product you buy once and shelve. It’s a system capable of constant evolution and adaptation. The threats you’re facing today won’t be the threats you’ll face six months from now. Without continuous updates and support, Sentinel loses its edge."
Ethan, inside his hotel room smiled in satisfaction. With barely any training, she had surpassed his expectations, especially considering that she was currently sitting in front of representatives of Google.
She was a natural.
The older lawyer exhaled through his nose, fingers drumming against the table. "Ms. Hayes, what you’re describing is more akin to a partnership than a license. And partnerships of this scale rarely come cheap."
"Precisely," Lillian answered, "because cheap won’t protect you. You’ve already seen the preliminary reports, the vulnerabilities Sentinel identified in less than a day. Those weren’t obscure edge cases, gentlemen, they were foundational exploits. If we had bad intentions, Google would already be suffering the losses."
The younger lawyer’s lips thinned at her bluntness.
"Still," Amelia said in a measured, "a flat two hundred and fifty million dollars annually is... bold." Her gaze hardened just slightly. "Our board won’t approve it."
Lillian leaned forward a bit. "A breach of your scale would cost more than ten times that in lawsuits, lost trust, and market destabilization. Sentinel doesn’t just save you money, it safeguards your structure. Still, I understand your board’s reservations. So let’s restructure it a bit."
She flipped the page with deliberate calm, almost as if she was prepared for this.... Which she was.
"A base subscription fee of one hundred and fifty million annually. On top of that, performance-linked bonuses. If Sentinel prevents high-severity breaches, adapts faster than your in-house defenses, or maintains compliance metrics above industry standards, those bonuses scale. In a successful year..." she let the words linger for a while, "....you might pay more than the original flat fee. But you will have certainty that Sentinel is always working at maximum capacity for Google’s benefit."
The younger lawyer frowned, muttering under his breath about "incentive manipulation," but Amelia raised a hand to silence him.
She turned to OmniTech’s avatar to see if he had anything to say, but a shrug was all that she was given.
He had stated that he would only be an observer and he wouldn’t interfere in the negotiation, so that was exactly what he was doing.
With a sigh, Amelia looked back at Lillian and her team before responding, "Ms. Hayes, you’re good. Very good."
Lillian gave her a small smile as she responded, "thank you for the praise, Ms. Rhodes."
"I’ll have to take this proposal to the board and see what their decision will be," Amelia said, "so we’ll have to put this meeting on hold until after."



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