Chapter 141

Chapter 141

Serena Sterling's POV

I strode out of the hospital room and hurried down the corridor.

By the time I pushed through the revolving doors, Harlan's car was already waiting at the entrance.

"Harlan, straight to BioNova Labs. We'll talk on the way." I yanked open the door and slid inside.

Harlan lowered his phone, his brow furrowed as he turned to face me.

"Our people already did some digging." His voice was tight. "The contact is a procurement manager named Damian. Arrogant, tight-lipped. He only said one thing—this year's quota won't be allocated to us. Price negotiation? Off the table. Legal action? They're prepared for it. They're not scared at all."

I closed my eyes briefly.

For a supplier with a monopoly on proprietary materials to be this brazen, there had to be a bigger power backing them.

"Keep digging." I opened my eyes. "Notify the legal team—compile every contract clause, communication record, email, phone recording we have with BioNova Labs, formal or informal. Build a complete evidence chain. Be ready to sue at any moment."

"Already arranging it." Harlan immediately made the call.

The car fell silent.

Outside the window, high-rises receded one after another.

Hours later, we left the bustling city center and entered the industrial outskirts.

BioNova Labs headquarters sat on the edge of a low-rise research park, half-hidden by a few sparse oak trees. The deliberate modesty formed an absurd contrast with their monopolistic position in the leather materials industry.

We waited in the reception area on leather sofas for nearly an hour.

The feeling of being left hanging wasn't neglect—it was deliberate disrespect.

The leather surface felt cold. The air conditioning pressed down silently. The receptionist kept her eyes glued to her screen, never once glancing our way.

Harlan sat beside me, his fingers tapping twice on his knee before stopping.

I didn't move.

The manager named Damian finally appeared—around forty, slightly overweight, wearing an ill-fitting charcoal suit with a slightly crooked tie. Yet he held his head high, his face bearing a professionally cultivated, almost careless cold smile.

He sat down at the head of the table, skipping pleasantries entirely, speaking in a deliberately cultivated lazy drawl.

"Ms. Sterling, Mr. Gray, sorry for the wait. You came all this way—we understand your sincerity. But regarding the fox leather quota issue, the company has reached a decision—" He paused, as if savoring the reaction to come. "Unfortunately, this year's allocation cannot be provided to Crimson Jewelry."

I cut straight to the point.

"Damian, we have a legally certified long-term cooperation contract. BioNova Labs unilaterally breaching the agreement without cause—all direct losses and brand reputation damages will be borne entirely by your company. We have the right to file suit immediately and reserve the right to pursue all compensation."

Harlan's voice deepened, following up: "Damian, BioNova Labs is known in the industry for its credibility. We'd like to know—what reason could possibly lead your company to make this decision? Is there room for price negotiation, or is something else going on?"

The smile on Damian's face dimmed a degree, his tone even icier.

"Ms. Sterling, Mr. Gray, why be so rigid? Business always has room for flexibility. Contracts are dead, people are alive. BioNova Labs certainly values credibility, but we also have to consider long-term strategic positioning."

I stared into his eyes, catching that fleeting something—not evasion, but smugness. The naked provocation that came from a confidence of "I know you can't touch me."

That trace of smugness sent an icy chill through me, while my mind accelerated its calculations.

"Long-term positioning." I repeated, my tone utterly flat. "BioNova Labs would rather pay massive breach penalties than continue cooperation with Crimson Jewelry—that's your strategic positioning? That logic wouldn't convince any independent director or Federal Trade Commission examiner."

I paused for a second.

"Is BioNova Labs being pressured, or have you latched onto a big tree and think someone will cover for you?"

The last trace of fake smile vanished from Damian's face.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the conference table, staring at me, the corners of his mouth curving into a warning arc.

"Ms. Sterling is indeed a smart woman. Then let's speak plainly." His voice dropped half a degree, deliberately cold and harsh. "That's right. Someone doesn't like Crimson Jewelry, made a call. BioNova Labs had to give face. Breach penalties? We'll pay them."

"Who?"

My voice was cold as an ice pick striking glass—crisp, sharp, devoid of any emotional warmth.

Damian gave a slight hum, as if savoring something, then said clearly: "The Rivera family."

Something in my mind seemed to collapse in a small section, then my entire thinking became extraordinarily clear.

The first thought that surfaced was Vivian—her relationship with the Rivera family heir, had it deepened to the point where the Rivera family would deploy this kind of commercial strangulation just to avenge her?

But the thought had barely formed before I crushed it myself.

No.

Crimson Jewelry was a brand I'd built step by step in Manhattan's fashion circle through sheer ability. Why would a family of the Rivera family's caliber use such vicious supply chain tactics over Vivian's personal grudge?

There had to be a deeper reason. A game I couldn't see clearly yet.

"Well, Ms. Sterling?" Damian leaned back in his chair, shoulders relaxing, his expression returning to that lazy arrogance. "Any more questions?"

He shook his head, his tone dripping with disdain.

"I advise you both to be sensible. Crimson Jewelry doesn't carry nearly enough weight compared to the Rivera family. Take the loss—maybe you can still walk away with some dignity."

Beside me, Harlan's anger flared.

His palm slammed onto the edge of the conference table with a dull thud, his chair scraping forward.

I raised my hand, lightly pressing his wrist.

I rose slowly to my feet.

Looking down at Damian, I spoke word by word: "Damian, please convey my thanks to the Rivera family for this generous gift. This gift, Crimson Jewelry and I—we accept it."

I paused.

"Also, please inform whoever's behind this—BioNova Labs' unilateral breach, the evidence chain is complete, the facts are clear. Crimson Jewelry will not withdraw from the market due to pressure from any power, no matter who the opponent is."

"Legal proceedings begin immediately. I will use every legal statute to defend every commercial right of Crimson Jewelry."

I stared directly at him, my voice leveling out, carrying something more terrifying than anger—contempt.

"The Rivera family's face? I'm sorry, but before evidence in federal court, it's worthless. We'll see you in court."

I turned and strode out of the conference room.

Behind me came the sound of a chair being violently shoved back, followed by Damian's flustered, furious parting shot:

"You'll regret this!"

I didn't look back.

Harlan followed me out, pushing open the parking lot gate.

He opened the car door, and before I got in, he let out a long breath—the kind of heavy exhale that comes after holding something in for too long.

"Serena..." He slid into the driver's seat, his voice slightly hoarse. "The opponent is the Rivera family. We..."

He didn't finish.

"Harlan," my voice held no ripples, "are you scared?"