Chapter 189

The sharp click of high heels echoed through the office, silencing the workspace instantly.

I walked down the hallway without glancing sideways, heading straight for the elevator.

Only Sophia Durand waited in the CEO's office.

"Auntie, you're early." I took my seat behind the desk and powered on the computer.

She slammed her palm on the desk. "How dare you seduce Adrian Roland?"

I flipped through files without looking up. "It's too early for your hysterics."

"I'll give up the company," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Just stay away from Adrian."

A cold laugh escaped me. "Give it to me? The Valentine Group has always been mine. As for the Roland empire, that's Adrian's business. Since when do you get a say?"

"This company is jointly owned by your uncle and me!"

"Fine." I closed the file. "With eighty million in debt, you want to take on forty million? How generous of you on Uncle Victor's behalf."

"You—"

I pressed the intercom. "Security, come up for an eviction."

Sophia's face turned ashen. "You wouldn't dare! Don't forget you have two children!"

"Try me." My gaze locked onto hers. "Adrian will destroy you first. Lily Savigny will never set foot in the Roland mansion."

A knock sounded before four security officers filed in.

"Escort her out. From now on, neither she nor her daughter enters this building without my permission."

The head guard hesitated. "But Mr. Lefèvre—"

"I'll handle my uncle." My tone remained flat. "Just do your job."

Sophia shrieked, "This is outrageous! Who signs your paychecks?"

"Mr. Lefèvre left explicit instructions last night," the guard said coldly. "You're banned from the executive floor."

"Impossible!"

"Shall I retrieve the call logs?" The guard gestured toward the door. "Madam, don't make this difficult."

As they dragged her out, Sophia screeched, "Why does she get to stay?"

"Mr. Lefèvre only warned us about you."

Silence finally reclaimed the office.

Rubbing my temples, I began untangling Victor Lefèvre's mess—chaotic client records, stalled projects, a nearly broken capital chain.

Mr. Alistair was right. Sometimes destruction precedes rebirth.

Thankfully Victor was incompetent. Reclaiming the company would've been far harder otherwise.

"Ms. Valentine." The marketing manager knocked.

"Come in."

"Mr. Lefèvre scheduled a golf meeting with William Rubenstein today. Should we—"

I frowned. "What time?"

"Two o'clock."

The clock read 12:40. Zenith Industries was our biggest client, yet they'd been cozying up to competitors lately.

"What's Rubenstein's weakness?"

The manager hesitated. "You'll...understand when you see him."

Traffic clogged the mountain roads. We arrived at Rainier Golf Club twenty minutes late.

"That's Rubenstein." The manager pointed across the green.

A greasy middle-aged man groped a young woman—some influencer I vaguely recognized.

"I'll handle this." I adjusted my collar.

The manager suddenly stopped me. "Ms. Valentine, perhaps some touch-ups?"

Puzzled, I pulled out a compact.

"Something...brighter." She offered a lipstick. "Mr. Rubenstein prefers...vibrant women."

My stomach churned with understanding.

But for the company's sake, I applied the crimson shade and strode toward that repulsive figure.

Rubenstein's gaze slithered over me like a venomous snake from thirty yards away.