“You look like someone who pays his mortgage on time and worries about grocery prices,” Victoria said bluntly, leaning forward with ruthless logic. “To my circle, that is the most exotic thing in the world.”

A tall man in his late forties with silver-streaked hair and cold, calculating eyes stepped onto the patio. It was Julian Vance—Victoria’s primary corporate rival and the man quietly financing the hostile takeover attempt against Mercer Freight Holdings.

Julian’s gaze swept over the crowd before landing squarely on Victoria and me.

“Victoria, darling,” Julian drawled, walking down the stone steps with a predatory smirk. “I heard you were bringing a mysterious new associate tonight. I didn’t realize you were looking for comfort in the lower ranks of your own company.”

Richard seized the opening, recovering his arrogant smirk. “Yeah, Victoria. What’s next? Are you promoting middle management to the board just to keep yourself company?”

The surrounding guests began to murmur, watching the drama unfold like spectators at a Roman colosseum.

I felt Victoria’s hand begin to tremble again—not from fear, but from the white-hot rage of a woman cornered by men who thought they could dictate her empire.

I gently stepped half a step forward, placing my shoulder slightly in front of hers. It wasn't corporate protocol. It was just instinct.

“Mr. Vance. Mr. Halston,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet patio.

Julian blinked, surprised that the background employee was speaking. “And who are you, son? The accountant playing dress-up?”

“Actually, I’m the senior risk analyst who audited your logistics subsidiary yesterday, Mr. Vance,” I replied evenly, offering a polite, chillingly professional smile.

Julian’s smirk faltered. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that your company’s latest freight manifest shows a forty-percent deficit in cross-state compliance,” I continued, keeping my tone conversational. “Which means by Monday morning, federal regulators will be freezing your primary shipping accounts. By Tuesday, your stock will drop at least twelve points. Honestly, gentlemen, you’re standing here gossiping about a party while your entire financial portfolio is currently sinking faster than a lead balloon.”

The silence in the garden became absolute.