Chapter 191
Chapter 191
He turned around, gaze sharp as a blade, sweeping over everyone present.
"I don't care what methods you use. Within three days, I want to see new supply chain proposals. Marketing, PR—dig up every dirty thing the Locke Group has done over the years and drag it into the light."
"He wants to play? I'll play with him to the end."
"Let's see if the Locke Group's teeth are sharp enough to chew through the Prescott Group!"
In the conference room.
Every executive looked grim. The air felt frozen.
The door opened.
Theodore walked in.
"We're abandoning the European market. For now."
The first sentence landed like a bomb in the silent room.
"Mr. Prescott!" The marketing director shot to his feet. "We've been working on the Nordic Power contract for two years. If we abandon it now, all our preliminary investment will be—"
"Completely wasted. I know." Theodore cut him off, tone flat as still water.
He turned and drew a heavy circle on the whiteboard around Southeast Asia and the Middle East.
"Their goal is to drag us down in the European quagmire. We're not playing that game."
He tapped the marker. "From today, all resources shift to emerging markets. I want you to tear open an opening in these regions as fast as possible."
"But those markets have already been carved up by established giants. If we enter now, I'm afraid—"
"Then make them spit back out what they swallowed."
Theodore's voice wasn't loud, but it sent a chill through the room. "The Locke Group likes playing capital games? Fine. We'll play. Legal, partner with our domestic allies and file lawsuits against the Locke Group in both the EU and North America for unfair competition and market monopolization."
The legal director froze. "Mr. Prescott, international litigation is time-consuming and resource-intensive, and the odds—"
"I don't need odds. I need delays." Theodore wrote 'delay' on the whiteboard. "Tie up their legal team, their PR team, in litigation. They want to destroy us outside the rules? We'll use the rules to pin them in place."
He tossed the marker down, gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"The Locke Group is a shark, but we're not sheep. If they want to tear off a piece of us, they'd better be ready to lose every tooth in their mouth. Ladies and gentlemen, the Prescott Group's survival is in your hands. Three days. I only need three days. I want to see the first executable plan."
With that, Theodore turned and left, leaving behind a room full of executives whose fighting spirit he'd completely ignited.
The despair and panic were gone. In their place was a ferocity born of being backed into a corner.
When Theodore returned to his office, night had fallen completely.
The office door opened softly. Yasmin walked in carrying a bowl of steaming soup.
"Drink this." She set the bowl beside him.
Theodore opened his eyes. The bloodshot veins were alarming. "Why are you here?"
"I was worried about you." Yasmin sat beside him. She didn't offer empty comfort. Instead, she pulled a tablet from her bag and handed it to him.
"I contacted some friends in the European luxury supply chain. This is a list of alternative suppliers they compiled, mainly in Italy and Switzerland. Many are family businesses with no ties to the Locke Group."
Theodore took the tablet, fingers sliding across the screen.
The list was detailed—not just contact information, but brief assessments of each company's background and reputation.
He looked at it for a long time before raising his head. "You—"
"My academy may be small, but I've built some international connections over the years." Yasmin straightened his rumpled collar. "Design and manufacturing often overlap. They can help us bypass the Locke Group's blockade. At least we can get core production lines running again."
Theodore said nothing. He just pulled her tightly into his arms.
He didn't speak, but Yasmin could feel his tense body relax slightly in her embrace.
The Locke Group's tactics went far beyond commercial siege.
When they found they couldn't quickly crush the Prescott Group from the outside, they turned their attention inward.
Harrison personally made the move, targeting the core team of the Yasmin Design Academy.
In one of the academy's studios, several young designers were heatedly discussing a new fabric.
"Mr. Hughes. What an honor."
Yasmin's chief designer, a young woman named Quinn Norton, received him.
Quinn was from the academy's first class of students and a genius who'd been winning international awards left and right.
Harrison maintained his elite demeanor and got straight to the point. "Ms. Norton, on behalf of the Locke Group, I formally invite you and your team to join our Global Fashion Creative Center. We're offering you a ten-million-dollar annual salary and an independent studio in Beverly Hills. All your designs will appear on the top runways in Paris and Milan."
He was confident. He didn't believe any young designer could refuse these terms.
Quinn listened and smiled.
She picked up a design sketch from the table and handed it to Harrison.
"Mr. Hughes, what do you think of this piece?"
Harrison glanced at it. Smooth lines, bold creativity. Definitely top-tier work. He nodded. "Very talented."
"This is Ms. White's work from three years ago." Quinn took the sketch back and carefully put it away. "Three years ago, I couldn't even draw a straight line. Ms. White taught me step by step. She poured her heart into us. What she gave us, money can't buy."
She looked at Harrison, eyes clear and resolute. "So we're not interested in your offer. Oh, and please tell your boss—if he wants to poach people with money, he should first understand that in our field, we respect our mentors and recognize the founders who established our craft. Ms. White is that founder."
Harrison's smile completely collapsed.
He hadn't expected his astronomical offer to make not even a ripple here.
He left in embarrassment. The studio erupted in cheers.
An assistant designer mimicked Harrison's tone in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, dear Quinn, we're offering you ten million dollars and Beverly Hills—"
"Screw Beverly Hills!" Quinn laughed. "Get back to work! The Milan Young Designers Exhibition drafts aren't finished yet!"
Yasmin stood outside the door, listening to the laughter inside. A smile tugged at her lips.
She pushed open the door and walked in. The studio fell silent.
"Ms. White!"
"You heard?" Yasmin looked at Quinn with amusement in her eyes.
Quinn scratched her head sheepishly. "Teacher, I didn't embarrass you, did I?"
"You're my proudest student." Yasmin said.
She knew this battle with the Locke Group wouldn't be easy. But she also knew they absolutely wouldn't lose.
Because what they were protecting wasn't just a company or a brand. It was something money couldn't buy.
It was loyalty. It was bonds. It was the courage to stand together through good times and bad.
Harrison's failure didn't make the Locke Group back down. On the contrary, when one plan failed, they switched to an even more sinister tactic.
Late at night.
The top-floor office at the Prescott Group was still brightly lit.
Theodore leaned back in his chair, staring at a quarterly report from the African division on his screen.
Project codename 'Morningstar'—a crucial piece in the Prescott Group's new energy strategy. A large-scale solar power station project.
The numbers on the report looked beautiful. Cost control, power generation efficiency, profit projections—every metric perfectly aligned with the plan.
Too perfect.
Perfect like a carefully woven lie.
Theodore's fingertip moved across the touchpad, pulling up the project's raw data streams.
He flipped through page after page, his frown deepening.
Finally, his finger stopped on an unremarkable equipment maintenance cost.
The number itself was fine. But the timing was wrong.
He picked up the internal line and connected to the project manager in Africa—a company veteran named Axel Bridge.
"Mr. Bridge, send me the maintenance records for Morningstar generator unit three from the twenty-second of last month." Theodore's voice revealed no emotion.
A few seconds of silence on the other end, then Axel's slightly hoarse voice came through. "Mr. Prescott, still working this late? Those are just routine operations. They're already reflected in the report. Nothing special."