Chapter 349: R S V P of. The MTD president Busy with work and preparations, Stephnay was in her bedroom, however, the bedroom looked like the backstage of a fashion show. Dresses lay draped across every surface—emerald green, midnight blue, silver and gold—each one more dramatic than the last. On the dresser, an array of jewelry boxes stood open like tiny treasure chests, gleaming under the soft light. Four pairs of heels, each with painful potential, were lined up neatly at the foot of the bed. Stephany stood at the center of it all, wearing a satin robe, her damp hair swept into a towel. Her stylist circled around her like a hawk, holding up fabrics to her face, mumbling things about skin tone, body lines, and "branding." “The gold one says elegance,” the stylist muttered, pinning the hem. “But the emerald says power.” Stephany wasn’t listening. She stared at herself in the mirror, but all she could see was fatigue. The weight of the last few weeks clung to her skin, even un

Chapter 351: A Stranger in My BedStephany sat on the edge of her bed, the white gown draped over the hanger before her like a symbol of everything she didn’t understand.Her phone rested beside her—dark, unmoving, silent.She had texted Chris earlier that morning.Just one line: Are you coming to the gala?There had been no reply.Now, hours later, she was still waiting for one. Pathetic, wasn’t it?She wasn’t even sure why she had messaged him. Pride should have kept her fingers frozen. But she’d done it anyway, and as the day wore on, her pride started feeling more like desperation.She glanced at her phone again.Nothing.No read receipt.No typing bubble.No trace of him.Her thumb hovered over the call button. For the fifth time.And finally, she gave in and pressed it.The line rang. Once. Twice.Then it went dead.Switched off.Stephany stared at the screen.She tried again.Switched off.The emptiness that settled in her chest wasn’t just disappointment it was something heav

Chapter 353: The Interruption The city glowed with twilight as the sun bowed behind glass towers and flashing billboards, preparing to hand the stage over to a night of prestige, power, and unveiling. The Preston Expansion Gala was just hours away, and every detail had been scrutinized to perfection—down to the shimmer of champagne and the alignment of name cards. But Chris never made it to the venue. Not yet. He had left the penthouse in his tailored suit, calm and resolved, his presence a storm wrapped in elegance. The drive his most trusted escort had been instructed to take the back route, avoiding media hotspots. It was supposed to be quiet. Controlled. But power always attracts chaos. And Chris never saw it coming. As the car approached an underpass just twenty minutes from the gala hall, a black SUV swerved from nowhere, cutting them off. Before the driver could react, another vehicle blocked them from behind. Then darkness. Metal clashed. Tires screeched. Doors fl

Chapter 355: A night of glass and gold. Add her mother pushes her to welcome him The Grand New York Ballroom shimmered like a crown jewel in the heart of Manhattan. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto mirrored floors, casting glittering illusions across a sea of tuxedos and couture gowns. The air was thick with cologne, champagne, and the sharp undercurrent of ambition. It was a night carved out for legends. And Charles Preston was ready to claim it. "Smile, Mr. Preston!" "Over here, Charles!" "The face behind Preston’s comeback!" Charles grinned wide, adjusting his cufflinks as camera flashes burst in succession. Reporters flanked the red carpet, microphones stretched forward like spears as he paused just long enough for the spotlight to settle comfortably on him. “Yes,” he said with polished ease, “we’re very proud of the progress Preston Holdings has made this year. Tonight is about celebrating that growth—and the vision that brought us here.”

Chapter 358: The Speech The ballroom, moments before electric with noise, now pulsed with stunned silence. The man everyone had ignored, mocked, and dismissed… stood before them. No longer in the shadows. No longer “just a son-in-law.” Chris Brown. The President of MTD Enterprises.If not because Sandra herself introduced him, no one would believe he was the owner of Sterling, the one calling the shots. The man who had, without the Preston name, without favors or inheritance, built a corporate empire that now stood at the helm of Preston Holdings’ salvation. He stepped up to the stage, his black tux catching the soft gold light of the chandeliers above. Calm, composed, magnetic. He didn’t need a grand entrance. He was the moment. The microphone felt cool in his hand as he brought it close. “Good evening,” he began, his voice smooth, quiet, but undeniably strong. The crowd leaned in. “I’ll keep this brief,” he continued. “I know the wine is flowing, and so