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The last syllable of Khloe’s toast hung in the air, tasting of sour champagne and reckless vanity. Six hundred people—investors, philanthropists, board members, and society columnists—held their collective breath. They had come to celebrate the annual Founders’ Gala for Hayes Dynamics, anticipating a pleasant evening of quiet networking and charitable donations. Instead, they had just witnessed a public execution of professional etiquette. / Chapter 23 / 30

Chapter 23 - The Confrontation in the Obsidian RoomWhen the double doors of the obsidian conference room finally swung open, the atmosphere inside was thick with tension.

Lord Reginald Vance-Sterling sat at the far end of the massive table. He was an imposing figure with stark white hair, wearing a bespoke tweed suit that smelled faintly of expensive cigar smoke and old money. Flanking him were three high-priced corporate attorneys from Geneva, looking smug and overly confident.

Victoria did not rush to her seat at the head of the table. She walked slowly around the perimeter, her heels clicking rhythmically against the stone floor, before finally pulling out her chair and sitting down with deliberate slowness.

"Lord Sterling," Victoria said, her voice cutting cleanly through the heavy silence. "I trust the tea in the antechamber was to your liking. It gives one plenty of time to contemplate the futility of proxy battles against a trust that holds your mortgage."

Reginald slammed his palm against the mahogany table, his face flushing crimson. "Insolent girl! You sit in a seat built by men who paved the way while you were playing with dolls! I represent twenty-eight percent of the legacy voting shares! Under the 1994 charter, I demand an immediate audit of the Zurich infrastructural accounts!"

Victoria didn't blink. She signaled to Marcus, who slid a thin, gold-embossed document across the table directly toward Reginald.

"You represent twenty-eight percent of a shell corporation that was liquidated under Chapter 11 in Frankfurt three days ago," Victoria said softly.

Reginald’s eyes widened. He snatched up the paper, his hands trembling as he scanned the legal seals. "This... this is impossible! I bought these shares through an offshore proxy in the Caymans!"

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The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, trapping the suffocating tension inside. Richard’s hands were shaking as he clutched the small, tarnished silver pendant. His knuckles were bone-white.

The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, t...

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply against the gold-rimmed porcelain of my dinner plate.

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply agains...

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a muffled, expensive thud.

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a...

"Through a proxy managed by Victor Sterling, who is currently serving a federal sentence for corporate espionage," Victoria finished for him. "When Victor’s assets were seized and liquidated by the international banking tribunal, every single one of his secondary debt notes defaulted back to the primary master trust—which is wholly owned and operated by me."

Lord Reginald stared at the document, the color completely draining from his face as he realized he had walked straight into a trap that had been laid weeks before he even stepped off his private jet.

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