Parker leaned against the edge of the railing, eyes narrowed at nothing in particular. The wind moved quiet across the compound below, but his mind was louder than ever.
Divine Fitness.
That name used to mean little more than one of his early investments. He used to think of it as... a solid step. A good move. Something with routine dividends and long-term safety. Nothing spectacular. Just that quiet $30 million that would dropp into his accounts like clockwork every month. It was supposed to be $50 million, but $20 million always got reinvested back into the business. And even then—he was younger in the game—he respected that.
It told him Divine Fitness was a machine that fed itself.
But the funny part? He'd never actually asked how big the machine was. Never really calculated what it weighed. Not spiritually, not economically.
Until now.
