Ese arrived swiftly, heels clicking like a gavel on marble as the entire room seemed to tense in her presence. The tall woman in the sleek black suit walked with the aura of someone used to commanding attention, her expression unreadable, yet undeniably cold. "Mr. Manchester," she said curtly, handing Adam a sleek leather folder. "As requested, I’ve brought the certified transaction record from the Bulldog Grand private auction. The wine in question—Lot #1173—was sold for exactly two hundred million dollars." Gasps echoed throughout the room. Even the air felt heavier. Adam didn’t even glance at the folder. Instead, he calmly pointed toward Trent with a faint smirk. "This wine was originally yours, Ese. If anyone owes you compensation... it’s him. And conveniently, he promised to pay ten times the price if proof was provided." Ese's gaze slowly turned toward Trent, her eyes gleaming like ice under a spotlight. She walked forward, deliberate and silent, until she stood directly

“At last year’s Bulldog Grand Auction, they did sell a bottle of wine worth two hundred million dollars,” Trent muttered, voice low, face pale.The weight of his own words pressed down on him. His earlier arrogance had bled away, replaced by a shaken disbelief. His fingers clenched the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, as the number echoed in his head.Two hundred million.Even as the second son of the Iron family—one of the wealthiest names in Storm City—Trent was rattled. Not just by the price tag, but by the implication. That someone here… someone beneath him… had actually bought that bottle.It made his pride twist into something bitter.The silence in the room fractured as Brielle’s voice cut through, loud and disbelieving.“Wait… what? Are you serious?” Her voice trembled slightly, eyes wide. “There’s really a bottle of wine that costs that much?”Belinda gasped, her mouth parted in stunned disbelief. “Two hundred million… for wine?”Even the bodyguard at the back shifted u

"I've never needed anyone to save me," Adam said coldly, his voice like steel scraping against concrete. His gaze cut straight through Trent, dismissive and unbothered. "And you? You’re just a clown who wandered into the wrong circus. What gave you the illusion you mattered?"Trent’s face twisted, veins bulging along his temple. “You arrogant piece of trash!” he snapped, turning toward the manager with a snarl. “What are you waiting for? Break this bastard’s legs and drag him out by the arms!"Then his eyes darted to Ese, and his expression darkened even more."And her—she had the audacity to lay a hand on me earlier. Slap her back. No—make it ten times worse. Teach that cheap tramp a lesson she’ll never forget!"The moment the last word left his lips, a loud crack echoed through the room.The manager’s hand struck Trent’s face with such force that his head snapped to the side, staggering him back a step. A vivid red handprint bloomed across his cheek, and for a moment, silence took t

Belinda’s eyes bulged, her face twisting with disbelief and fury. “Ms. Zarholt, are you serious right now? You must be mistaken! That guy’s just some nobody—how could you possibly know him?”Brielle jumped in, her voice laced with sarcasm and arrogance. “Exactly! You’d really risk offending Mr. Iron… over him? Come on, Ms. Zarholt. That’s not just reckless—it’s pathetic!”The moment Brielle’s words landed, Ese’s expression turned glacial. Her heels clicked once as she stepped forward, eyes like steel.Without a word of warning, her palm lashed out with a sharp crack across Brielle’s cheek. Before the sting could even register, her other hand flew in a brutal backhand, snapping Belinda’s head to the side.Gasps echoed through the room.Ese’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Say another word about Mr. Manchester,” she said icily, “and I’ll have your mouths sewn shut—permanently.”Both women stood frozen. Even with their faces burning from the slaps, they didn’t dare lift a f

Most people would’ve run from the situation. Brielle? She threw herself into it like a moth to fire—eager, stupid, proud. She called it loyalty. Adam called it desperation wrapped in delusion.Gerald’s face darkened like storm clouds gathering. He shifted his eyes toward Adam, jaw clenched.Twice now.Adam had ruined his birthday last year. And now, here they were again, with Trent’s carefully arranged celebration burning to ash before it even began.“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Gerald muttered, teeth grinding. He stood abruptly. “Let’s go!”He didn’t wait for the others to rise—just turned and started marching toward the exit.But Adam’s voice cut through the room, calm yet unmistakably sharp.“Since you’re already here,” Adam said, swirling the wine in his glass, “why don’t you leave after enjoying your meal?”Gerald froze mid-step. His shoulders tensed. Slowly, he turned back, a mocking grin twitching at his lips. “What’s there to enjoy? Mr. Iron’s gone. Who’s footing