Chapter 169

"Mr. Grant, with all due respect, what exactly did you mean by that?" I set down my coffee cup, the porcelain clinking sharply against the table.

Mr. Grant stroked his Patek Philippe watch, his smile dripping with condescension. "Miss Valentine, with your... assets, why work so hard? Wouldn't it be easier to play the dutiful designer wife beside Victor Valence?"

My fingertips turned ice-cold.

"Mutual respect is the foundation of any negotiation." I held his gaze. "You don't seem here to discuss business today."

"I'm simply offering you a better path." He spread his hands. "Sometimes ignorance is bliss."

"Who's your employer?"

"Xavier." He dropped the name like a casual afterthought.

Xavier?

My mind raced through every connection, but came up blank.

His assistant slid a laptop across the table. The numbers on screen made my stomach drop.

"Late fees have accumulated to this amount." Mr. Grant tapped the display. "Further delays will leave us no choice but litigation."

Victor Lefèvre paled. "Mr. Grant, our company's accounts are—"

"Pay up or face prison time." The lawyer cut in coldly. "Minimum seven years."

I caught the strange gleam in Victor's eyes, the ghost of a smirk twisting his lips.

What game was he playing?

Buzz—

My phone vibrated.

[No destruction, no construction.]

I pressed my lips together, tucking the phone away. Mr. Alistair always understood.

"Stella!" Victor suddenly grabbed my wrist. "You said you had a solution!"

"My apologies, Uncle. I overestimated myself."

"What about Victor Valence? Make him help!" His voice turned shrill. "I'm your blood relative!"

I gave a bitter laugh. "Why would Mr. Valence spend a dime for me?"

"Doesn't he adore you?"

The conference room door slammed open.

"Who said I wouldn't?"

Victor Valence stormed in wearing his signature studded leather jacket, motorcycle helmet crashing onto the table. "I'll cover the debt. She's mine."

Silence swallowed the room.

He sprawled into a chair, boots propped on the conference table. "Amount? Wire transfer or check?"

Mr. Grant's eyes narrowed. "Young Master Valence is certain about meddling?"

"Cut the crap." Victor turned to me. "Marry me or not?"

My temple throbbed.

"We need to talk. Outside." I yanked him toward the door.

"Hey, easy there!" He grinned, leaning closer. "Registry office first, then bank transfer?"

"Shut up!"

I offered Mr. Grant an apologetic nod. "Please excuse us for a private discussion."

Mr. Grant exhaled a cigar smoke ring. "By all means. This performance is quite entertaining."

In the hallway, Victor's playful demeanor vanished.

"That old bastard Xavier is cornering you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Mr. Alistair sent me."

My pulse jumped.

So it was all an act?

"What now?"

He pressed closer, breath hot against my ear. "Listen carefully. Here's the plan—"

Before he could finish, Victor's enraged scream tore through the conference room:

"Stella Valentine! Get your ass back here now!"