Chapter Sixty Seven

Chapter Sixty Seven
Arion McCallen stood before the tall window overlooking Hyde Park, watching the glints of sunlight dance across the summer leaves. But his mind was far from the view. He couldn’t stop thinking about his last encounter with Hazel. Her gaze, the way she spoke—everything felt like a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved.

The door to his office creaked open. Jaxon, his ever-loyal personal assistant, stepped in with a cautious expression.

“Mr. McCallen,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Harriet has called for an executive meeting this afternoon. She wants to discuss the new oversight committee structure for the expansion project in Italy.”

Arion narrowed his eyes. “An oversight committee? Without my knowledge?”

Jaxon nodded, reluctant. “She’s already secured the support of two senior board members. She wants you to attend—but she says it’s just a formality.”

Arion let out a cold laugh. “Of course she did.”

Harriet wasn’t the type to wait. She played the game fast, pushing the boundaries of power inch by inch. And now, she was carving her way into business decisions that should have been entirely under Arion’s control.

“Fine,” Arion said at last. “Prepare the boardroom. And Jaxon—I want you to find out exactly who’s backing her. Including the CFO. I want to know who’s starting to turn.”

That afternoon, the boardroom was tense. Harriet sat at the head of the table with a diplomatic smile, clad in a sharp maroon suit. Beside her, two senior directors—Thomas Lang and Cecilia Trent—greeted Arion with stiff nods.

Arion didn’t sit. He stood at the other end of the table, his gaze sweeping across the room like a blade.

“Before we begin,” he said calmly, though his voice carried weight, “let me remind everyone here that the Italy expansion project was a direct mandate from my late father. And any structural changes will be reviewed through the lens of his legacy and original vision.”

Harriet laced her fingers on the table. “Of course, Arion. But the world changes. That vision needs adjustment. I simply want to ensure we don’t repeat past mistakes—especially in appointing the local team.”

“Mistakes of the past have nothing to do with an oversight committee controlled by people with zero field experience,” Arion replied coldly.

Lang interjected, “We’re only seeking transparency.”

“Transparency?” Arion turned, his lips curling into a thin smile. “Then why was I excluded from the start?”

The room fell silent. Harriet’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened.

“This isn’t about personal power, Arion. It’s about sustainability.”

Arion leaned forward slightly. “Then let’s make sure ‘sustainability’ isn’t just a pretext for a coup.”

Hours later, Arion sat alone in his office, fingers drumming on the desk. On his laptop screen, the financial reports from the Italy project were open. The list of new contractors Harriet had proposed raised red flags. One of them was linked to a law firm Richard McCallen had used years ago. But that wasn’t what caught Arion’s attention.

Among the names was one that made him freeze: Hazel Whitmore.

Arion hit the intercom. “Jaxon, find everything on Hazel Whitmore. Professional background, business ties—and if possible—why her name is on this list.”

“Right away, sir.”

Half an hour later, Jaxon returned with a folder containing the preliminary findings. Arion opened it and scanned through the pages.

Hazel Whitmore. Law graduate from King’s College. Formerly worked for an investment firm in Milan. No criminal record, no scandals, but…

…one vague employment contract—with a shell company owned by McCallen Group that had been quietly dissolved after Richard’s death.

“Why didn’t you tell me she’d worked within the family business?” Arion asked, narrowing his eyes.

Jaxon looked uneasy. “That record… was buried deep in the old legal archives. It appears your father arranged it himself.”

Arion closed his eyes for a moment. Harriet, Hazel, shadow companies. This wasn’t about the Italy expansion anymore. This was something deeper, older.

Maybe even something that began before Arion had fully understood the power map of his own family.

The next morning, Hazel stood outside McCallen Hotels’ headquarters, visibly uneasy. She hadn’t contacted Arion since their last, heated conversation. But this morning, he had summoned her directly.

When she entered the executive suite, Arion was already standing near the window, calm and cold.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, without turning around.

Hazel nodded. “I can guess.”

“Good. Then answer me this—what’s your connection to Harriet?”

Hazel met his gaze. “None.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” she said softly. “I did work under the division Harriet managed. But I didn’t know she would end up in the executive board. Back then, I was just executing legal contracts per headquarters’ directives. I was never part of any scheme.”

Arion stepped closer. “Then why is your name on the expansion list?”

Hazel shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t even been back to Italy in two years.”

Their eyes locked. For a moment, Arion saw something in her eyes—not deception, but fear. Not fear of him, but of something bigger.

“Hazel, I can’t trust you. But I also can’t ignore the possibility that you’re being set up.”

Hazel held her breath. “So why did you call me here?”

Arion turned, his eyes sharp. “Because if Harriet is truly moving in the shadows, I need to know who her pieces are. And if you’re not one of them… maybe you can help me dismantle this plan from the inside.”

Hazel was silent, her heart pounding. This wasn’t just a request. It was an ultimatum.

“I… I need time,” she whispered.

Arion nodded. “You have time. But not much.”

That evening, in a shadowy corner of the lower floor of McCallen headquarters, Harriet spoke on the phone. Her voice was low, but laced with tension.

“Yes. He’s starting to suspect. But he has no proof yet. Keep watching Hazel. If she sides with Arion… we’ll move faster.”

She ended the call, then stared into the small mirror inside her compact.

“Sorry, Richard,” she whispered. “But this is the only way to protect what you started.”

And far down the dark hallway, an old janitor who had overheard everything lifted his phone and sent a single message:

“Phase one confirmed. Harriet in motion.”