The private concierge console remained dead, offering no response other than the mocking red light. Panic, cold and sharp, began to claw its way up the back of Mrs. Rice's throat. She refused to accept it. She pulled a secondary platinum card from her designer handbag, a backup card tied directly to a private family trust fund that had existed for decades. "Try this one," she demanded aloud to the room, shoving the platinum card into the reader. "Charge the private jet charter right now, or I will have every single employee in this building fired before sunset." The terminal processed the data for a fraction of a second before the screen blinked and displayed the same devastating message. {Declined. Account Balance Zero.} Mrs. Rice staggered back a half step, her fingers clutching the edge of the leather chair behind

The heavy front doors of the Rice estate swung open with a violent slam, echoing off the foyer walls as Mrs. Rice stormed inside.Her crimson blazer was dust-stained at the hem, and her hair was no longer held in its pristine professional shape.She marched straight toward the grand piano, her fingers shaking so badly that she dropped her designer handbag onto the floor.The public humiliation at the warehouse press conference was still replaying in her mind like a waking nightmare.Julian Craig had stood in front of national television cameras, calmly announcing to the entire city that her commercial debt was acquired and her empire was seized.People were whispering her name with disgust. Competitors were circling like vultures.She needed to fix this immediately before her social standing crashed into nothing.She grabbed her smartphone from the foyer table, unlocking the screen with frantic swipes and dialing Haven Tyler's direct private number.The phone rang three times before a

"That is impossible. We are the most important people in this city. People like us do not lose our things. Haven is right here with me, and he said this is just a small problem. He told me some angry rival is just playing a silly trick." "Your husband is an idiot!" Mrs. Rice screamed, her sadness turning right back into hot, burning anger. "My whole life's work is disappearing while he sits in his chair playing the big boss! You need to make him use his power right now, Isabella! Call his rich banking friends! Make him put money into my accounts before the court men take my house!" "Mother, please stop," Isabella begged, her own voice shaking with fear. "Haven is working on a big plan to fight back. He promised me his business friends are strong enough to beat whoever is doing this. Just wait a little longer. We are going to be fine." Down in the dark parking garage underneath th