Back in the opulent, yet somehow unfamiliar, Queen mansion, Michael moved with a quiet, almost watchful grace. While Oliver's raw intensity was palpable, Michael's presence was more subdued, yet carried an undercurrent of keen observation.
Moira fussed over him constantly. "Michael, are you sure you're well enough for this dinner party? It's important for appearances."
Michael offered a polite smile. "Appearances can be deceiving, Mother. But I understand their necessity."
Tommy Merlyn, ever the boisterous friend, clapped Michael on the shoulder. "Mike! You're alive! We gotta hit up the old haunts, man! Celebrate!"
Michael's refusal was gentle but firm. "I appreciate it, Tommy, but I need some time to… find my footing again. The city feels… different."
Oliver, meanwhile, was already restless. "I need to see what's happened here. What Robert… what they let happen."
Michael, overhearing, said quietly, "Understanding the past is crucial, Oliver. But sometimes, the most effective way to change the present is to anticipate the future."
During a seemingly casual conversation with Walter Steele about the company's precarious financial situation, Walter lamented, "Adam Hunt is circling, Michael. He's trying to buy up our stock at a pittance."
Michael listened intently, then asked, his voice deceptively mild, "Hunt… what are his weaknesses, Walter? What motivates him beyond simple greed?"
Walter looked thoughtful. "He has a… gambling problem. And some significant debts."
Michael nodded almost imperceptibly. "Debts can be… persuasive levers." A few days later, news of Hunt's sudden financial woes and his stock acquisition plans collapsing circulated through the city. Oliver, focused on street-level crime, remained oblivious to the subtle economic maneuvering.