Chapter 202
Chapter 202
"Shareholders, I understand your concerns. But this is exactly the time we need to stay calm. Mr. Tudor is not here right now — I've already reached out to him, and until he returns, I'll be handling company matters on his behalf."
An older shareholder with white hair pushed up his glasses and fixed her with a sharp look.
"It's not that we don't trust you. But when you get down to it, this is a family matter. What we shareholders need is someone who can actually be held accountable — not a..."
"Not a what?"
The conference room door swung open from outside.
Every head turned toward the entrance.
Henry stood there.
He was still wearing yesterday's dark gray suit — hadn't changed. His shirt collar was slightly open, his tie hanging loose around his neck. There were dark circles under his eyes, and stubble had grown along his jaw.
He looked exhausted and rough around the edges.
He walked in. Everyone watched him. No one spoke.
He made his way to his seat and sat down, his eyes moving across the face of every shareholder in the room.
"Shareholders, I apologize for being late."
But just then, the conference room door was pushed open again.
"Mr. Tudor, Ms. Seymour — this is bad. Something new just went up online. It's from Bianca. She's posted evidence of Mr. Tudor's affair during the marriage — wire transfer records, chat logs, all of it."
The room erupted.
"The stock is dropping again — look, another three points!"
"It's over. It's all over. We're done!"
Henry's expression darkened in an instant.
"How dare she!"
He slammed his phone down on the table, shot to his feet, and sent his chair crashing to the floor behind him.
"Well, well. Everyone's here."
Ryan walked up to the conference table. He didn't sit — just stood there, both hands resting on the edge, leaning slightly forward.
"Henry, that's pretty low, even for you. Forty million dollars of company money spent on a mistress — what are the shareholders supposed to think? What does that make the Tudor family look like?"
The vein at Henry's temple pulsed. His knuckles went white as his fists tightened.
Ryan didn't look at him. He turned to the shareholders.
He let out a slow breath. "Now isn't the time to point fingers. What matters right now is getting things under control. And to do that, someone has to step up and take responsibility."
He paused, his gaze moving from face to face around the table.
"My recommendation: suspend Henry from all duties as chairman until this matter is fully investigated, and have the board form a dedicated committee to conduct a comprehensive audit of the company's financials over the past several years."
The room went silent for a beat — then the voices rushed in like a wave.
Henry's expression was beyond dark now. There were no words for it.
---
The conference room door closed behind Henry, cutting off every sound from the hallway.
He stood alone in the empty room, both hands pressed against the conference table, head down, shoulders trembling slightly.
Slowly, he straightened up and walked to the window.
Outside, the sky was a dull gray. The clouds hung low — the kind that threatened rain but couldn't quite deliver it. The air felt heavy and suffocating.
He pressed his fingers against the cold glass. His fingertips went white.
---
Gloria came out of the conference room and didn't go back to her office. She went straight downstairs.
As she stepped out of the elevator, her phone buzzed.
A message from Leopold: Marlowe is getting restless.
Gloria read it, didn't reply, slipped her phone into her pocket, and pushed open the glass doors of the lobby.
Her phone buzzed again.
Not Leopold this time. Henry.
She watched his name flash on the screen, waited a few seconds, then answered.
"Gloria."
Henry's voice came through the earpiece — hoarse, carrying a kind of exhaustion and desperation that was hard to name.
"Can you come back?"
Gloria held the phone and said nothing.
"Mom is losing it at home. She's saying she wants to get Bianca out. She's saying she wants to go to the press and set the record straight. She's saying the photos are fake, that she didn't have an affair."
His voice dropped lower and lower, like something was pressing down on him, squeezing the air out.
Gloria was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft — almost swallowed by the sound of the rain.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Come back. Let's talk."
She watched the raindrops burst and vanish on the ground, and the faintest curve touched the corner of her lips.
"Okay."
---
By the time the car pulled up to the estate, the rain had eased into a fine drizzle, a thin veil of mist settling over the courtyard.
Gloria pushed open the door. She hadn't even made it into the living room before she heard Marlowe's voice.
Marlowe saw Gloria walk in and spun around, her gaze cutting across the room like a blade.
"Gloria. You actually have the nerve to show your face here?"
She shoved Henry aside and took two steps toward Gloria, one finger pointed straight at her face.
"It was you. You had those photos taken. You brought Lester in. You had all that stuff posted online. Gloria, you're ruthless — you want to destroy the Tudor family. You want to destroy me!"
The more she said, the more worked up she got. Her chest heaved. Her hand pressed against her lower abdomen, and the color drained from her face — from flushed red to a sickly white.
"I'm telling you, don't even think about it. Not one cent of what belongs to the Tudor family will ever be yours!"
Gloria didn't respond. She just tilted her head slightly and glanced at Henry.
Henry stepped forward and took hold of Marlowe's arm.
"Mom, please. Stop. Go rest in your room."
"I'm not going anywhere!"
Marlowe wrenched her arm free, stumbled back a step, and barely caught herself on the arm of the sofa.
"Henry, are you blind? Can't you see what she is? She's using you. She's been using you from the very beginning. And you're still defending her?"
Gloria stood to the side and watched them. She didn't speak. She didn't move. She was perfectly still — like an outsider watching a scene that had nothing to do with her.
When Marlowe finally ran out of steam, she sank slowly onto the sofa, one hand still pressed to her abdomen, her face frighteningly pale.
She caught her breath, looked up at Henry, and her voice suddenly softened — dropping into something small and almost pleading.
"Henry, get a paternity test. Just do the test. If it proves you're your father's son, the shareholders won't have anything left to say. Your position will be safe."
Her voice got quieter and quieter.
"I know you're angry. But now isn't the time to dig your heels in. Just do the test. It's quick, it's simple, it won't take much—"
Henry was tired too. He turned, picked up a manila envelope from the entryway cabinet, walked back, and set it on the coffee table.
"These are plane tickets to Vesperia. Day after tomorrow. First class."
"Mom, go to Vesperia. It's better for you. It's better for the Tudor family."
Marlowe looked at his expressionless face, and a bone-deep chill rose from somewhere inside her.
She looked at Gloria.
Gloria stood to the side, her face as calm as ever. No triumph. No satisfaction. Not even pity.
Just watching her. Quietly. The way you'd look at a stranger.
And in that moment, Marlowe understood.
She wasn't being sent away by Henry.
She was being driven out by Gloria — one step at a time.
From the very beginning, Gloria had been setting this up. Getting her to go to Vesperia to wait out the pregnancy. Letting her come back. Letting Lester show up. Letting the photos leak. Letting the shareholders turn on them. Getting Henry suspended. Leaving her with no one on her side.
Every single step had been calculated.
And she had been nothing but a piece on the board.
Marlowe sank back into the sofa, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
She stared at Gloria, her lips shaking for a long moment before she finally managed to get the words out.
"Gloria. What do you actually want?"
Gloria looked down at her.
"Mom, I didn't do anything to you. You got here all on your own."