THE DIVORCED EMPLYOEE HUSBAND IS A BITCOIN TRILLIONAIRE

Chapter 6: Crushing Presence

The elevator to the top floor restaurant rose so smoothly that Kris felt nothing except the quiet weight in her chest.

Thomas stood beside her, straightening his silver watch for the third time. He had followed her all the way from the second floor, talking the entire time, and she had stopped listening somewhere around the lobby.

"I'm only saying, you should be more grateful," he told her, smiling at his own reflection in the brass doors. "Do you know how many tenants beg Mr. Dunn for a single day? And I got you three, just by walking in."

"Thomas, I never asked you to come to this dinner," Kris answered, her voice thin and tired.

"A woman like you should not walk into a place like this alone." He gave her a soft, patient look, the kind people use on children. "Besides, I want to meet this friend of yours. I want to make sure he is not wasting your time."

Kris did not reply. Her fingers held the white business card so tightly that the corner had turned soft and damp.

The doors opened onto a dining room of dark wood and warm gold light. Tall windows ran along one side, and the city lay spread beneath them like spilled jewelry. Only a few tables were filled, and every guest looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine.

At the corner table by the glass, a man in a plain gray jacket sat alone with a glass of water. He looked up when he saw her, and his face softened into an easy smile.

"Kris. You made it."

"Alex." Kris crossed the carpet slowly, feeling shabby in her old navy blazer. "I am sorry I am late. It was a long morning."

"You are right on time." Alex rose and pulled out her chair. His eyes moved to the man behind her, and one eyebrow lifted a little. "And you brought a friend."

"Thomas Reed, Crown Property." Thomas stuck out his hand with a wide, shiny smile. "Kris's close friend and her trusted contact in this building. I am the reason she is still standing today."

"Is that so?" Alex shook his hand lightly.

"Absolutely. This morning, Kris was about to be thrown out of her shop." Thomas dropped into a chair without being asked, and leaned back like he owned the table. "I took her straight to the supervisor and solved the whole problem in ten minutes. Three full days. Not many people can pull that off."

Alex glanced at Kris. She lowered her eyes and said nothing, her cheeks warming.

"Three days," Alex repeated gently.

"It is a lot, in this building." Thomas laughed, and then looked Alex up and down, from the plain jacket to the old watch. "And you, my friend? What do you do? You look like you are between jobs."

"I am starting a business."

"A business." Thomas smirked, and his voice dripped with false kindness. "Of course. Everyone with a dream and a cheap jacket is starting a business. You look like a mule that has been told it can race horses. Good luck, buddy. Truly."

Kris winced. Alex only lifted his glass of water, took a calm sip, and set it down again.

"You may be right."

"I usually am." Thomas picked up the menu and flipped it open. "Now, let me order for the table. This place has a wonderful steak, though I doubt you can afford the price on your side of the menu."

Before Alex could answer, a flurry of footsteps echoed at the entrance of the restaurant.

The door swung wide. A tall man in a navy suit rushed in, and behind him came a crowd of at least a dozen people in neat dark clothes, all walking in a tight, nervous line. Their faces were bright with eager smiles.

"Mr. Morgan!" Jeff cried out, hurrying across the carpet with both hands spread. "Mr. Morgan, forgive the interruption! I heard you were dining, and the whole management team wished to pay their respects at once."

The room stilled. Forks stopped halfway to mouths. A waiter near the window froze with a tray in both hands.

"Mr. Morgan?" Thomas stared at the man who had just rushed past him. His grin slid slowly off his face. "Jeff, what are you doing here?"

Jeff did not even look at him. He stopped before Alex and bowed deeply, so low that his tie nearly touched the table.

"Sir, this is the leadership team of Crown Property," he announced, with his voice full of respect. "Please allow us to greet you properly."

One by one, the delegation stepped forward and bowed. They murmured their names, their titles, their wishes for his health. Thomas watched them with his mouth half open, like a fish dropped on a dock.

Then his eyes drifted to the very back of the group, and the blood drained from his face.

A lean man with narrow eyes stood alone at the end of the line, pressed against the wall as if he wished to be part of it. He did not step forward. He did not dare. His hands shook around a folder, and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

Mr. Dunn.

"Supervisor Dunn?" Thomas whispered, hardly breathing. "What is he doing at the back?"

Dunn's eyes finally flicked toward the table. They landed on Kris, and he gasped aloud, a thin, strangled sound. His folder slipped from his fingers and slapped onto the carpet.

"You," he breathed. "The tenant from this morning."

Kris sat very still. She did not understand what was happening, but she could feel the whole room leaning toward her like a tide.

"Jeff," Alex asked, in a calm voice, "do you know this woman?"

"Not personally, sir. But I know her file." Jeff's gaze moved coldly to the back of the group. "Mr. Dunn. Step forward and explain yourself."

Dunn walked across the carpet like a man heading toward a firing squad. His legs wobbled. His mouth opened and closed several times before any words came out.

"Mr. Jeff, sir, I only followed the policy. This tenant has three months of unpaid rent, and the debts are serious. I gave her three days as a courtesy."

"A courtesy." Jeff's smile was sharp and cold. "You mean you threw a hardworking woman toward the street, and you mocked her car sale in your own office? I heard every word, Dunn. The walls in my building have good ears."

"I did not know she was connected to..." Dunn's voice dried up. He turned to Alex with trembling lips. "Sir, I am a stupid man. I am like a dog that barks at the wrong door. Please do not punish me for it."

"A dog that barks at the wrong door is stupid," Jeff replied coldly. "But a dog that bites a woman already on the ground is a different animal. Get out of my sight. Report to human resources in the morning."

Dunn went pale as old paper. He bowed, and bowed again, and backed out of the room, still bowing, until the doors swallowed him whole.

Thomas sat rigid in his chair, his hands pressed flat against the table. His silver watch caught the light and suddenly looked very small.

"J... Jeff," he stammered, forcing a laugh. "There must be some misunderstanding. I only wanted to help Kris, and I thought..."

"You thought what?" Jeff finally turned to him, and his voice dropped into something low and dangerous. "That a sales representative with a loud mouth and a cheap watch could save a tenant by whispering to a supervisor? You are a small man with a big voice, Thomas. You are a frog that thinks his croak moves the river."

Thomas's lips trembled, and his face turned the color of cooked ham. He lowered his eyes to the table, and could not lift them again.

Jeff turned back to Alex, and his whole face melted into a warm smile.

"Sir, may I ask what troubled Miss Kris?"

"She has trouble with her shop on the third floor," Alex answered simply. "She is also my associate in a new venture."

"Then it is settled at once." Jeff clasped his hands before his chest, and bowed toward Kris with gentle respect. "Since Miss Kris is your associate, sir, the back rent is waived entirely. And she may take a full month to move her stock, with all the help my team can provide."

Kris stared at him. For a moment she could not even breathe. The words hung in the air, bright and unreal, like a song from another life.

Beside her, Thomas had shrunk down in his chair, with his shoulders caved in and his eyes fixed on the tablecloth. Every bit of the proud rooster was gone.

Kris slowly turned her gaze toward the man in the plain gray jacket.

He was calmly cutting a small piece of bread, as if the whole delegation had come only to deliver the weather report. His face was easy and quiet. Not a single flicker of pride crossed it.

Who is this man? she thought, and her heart began to pound. A person does not own this kind of power by accident. His reach goes deeper than I can even measure.