Chapter 97 Veiled Confrontation

Chapter 97 Veiled Confrontation

A new day. Sophia was at the Caldwell Corporation early.

The scent of burnt instant coffee hit her the moment she stepped into the back office. 

The clatter of keyboards stopped mid-stroke. 

A dozen pairs of eyes turned toward her, studying her like she was something rare and out of place.

"Miss Bennett?" A young clerk fumbled, the stapler in his hand hitting the floor with a sharp clack. "What brings you here?"

Sophia didn't answer. Her gaze slid past them to the break room doorway.

Oscar stood with his back to her, grinding coffee beans. The sleeves of his silver-gray shirt were rolled to the elbows, exposing a fresh scrape along his forearm—edges red and raw, disturbingly similar to the defensive wound she'd seen on the attacker's wrist last night.

"Mr. Oscar Caldwell."

Her voice was soft, but it cut through the room like ice.

Oscar's hand froze on the grinder. Beans spilled across the counter. When he turned, his practiced smile was already in place, though the flicker of panic in his eyes betrayed him.

"Miss Bennett, what a surprise. Can I help you?"

"I heard you injured your hand." Sophia walked into the break room, her eyes lingering on the mark on his arm. "How did it happen?"

"Oh, this?" Oscar tugged his sleeve down quickly. "Scraped it moving a file cabinet yesterday. Nothing serious."

Sophia said nothing. She reached for the siphon coffee pot on the counter. Glass caught the morning light, throwing a cold gleam.

She poured a handful of Blue Mountain beans into the grinder. The soft rasp of the burrs filled the silence.

"You seem to enjoy hand-brewing coffee, Mr. Caldwell."

"Just a hobby." His fingers curled slightly against the counter. "Would you like a cup?"

"Sure."

She tipped the grounds into the filter. Steam rose as she poured in boiling water, blurring her expression.

"I heard someone spotted you near Aurelian Oak Estate yesterday," she said.

The siphon bubbled, the sound oddly in sync with the sudden uptick in Oscar's pulse. He dropped a sugar cube into a mug.

"You must be mistaken. I was in the company warehouse all day."

"Really?" Sophia's gaze lifted, sharp and cold. "That's strange. Someone also saw a white Volkswagen parked at the bamboo grove entrance. The plates looked… familiar."

Oscar's hand trembled. The sugar cube slipped into the crack of the counter. He grabbed a cloth, wiping at nothing.

"Probably a coincidence. Plenty of cars like that in Virensia."

"A coincidence?" Sophia slid the finished coffee toward him, the surface crowned with fine foam. "Like the attacker's wrist wound last night—exactly the same as yours?"

The grinder squealed in protest. Oscar shut it off hard. The room was watching again.

He lowered his voice, the edge unmistakable, "Miss Bennett, be careful. Accusing a company director has consequences."

"I'm just stating facts." Sophia took her own cup, her fingers tracing the warm porcelain. "You should know, the cameras at Aurelian Oak Estate may be old, but they can still read a license plate."

Oscar's smile dropped. He studied her profile and realized she was baiting him. She might not have proof—she was waiting for him to slip.

"What do you want?" His voice was ice.

"Nothing." She sipped her coffee, the bitterness blooming on her tongue. "Just a reminder. Some things aren't yours to touch. Like what belongs to the Caldwell family."

She set the cup down with a sharp click and walked out.

Oscar stood there for a long moment. His palm was damp with sweat.

Sophia stepped into the hallway. The clock struck ten. She pulled out her phone and texted Henry: [The bait's taken.]  

His reply came almost instantly: [Edward's on him.]

She glanced toward the executive offices. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, striping the floor in fractured light. The game was moving into its next phase.

Oscar stayed in the break room for ten minutes. Then he pulled out his phone and hovered over Thomas's number. After a pause, he dialed someone else.

"Put the word out," he said, voice low and lethal. "Tell them Thomas Caldwell and three board members are calling an emergency meeting next week to re-elect the president."

A clipped acknowledgment came from the other end. Oscar didn't hang up.

"And send Thomas an anonymous email. Tell him Henry is preparing to freeze all his accounts."

He hung up, staring at the untouched coffee Sophia had left. The foam had collapsed, leaving only the dark beneath—opaque, bottomless.

Thomas as president? Irrelevant. He didn't want a puppet. He wanted chaos.

If Henry was tied up fighting his own blood and Sophia was distracted, he could dig into the Black Ice Project, find the truth about his father's death, and make the Caldwell family pay for thirty years of buried blood.

Thomas was in the hospital, peeling an apple for Susan, when the email came through. The knife slipped, nearly catching his finger.

"What is it?" Susan leaned over. Her pupils tightened. "Freezing your accounts? Henry can't do this!"

Thomas's face flushed dark. He gripped the phone until his knuckles whitened, Oscar's earlier words echoing in his head: "Mr. Thomas Caldwell, if you don't act now, you'll lose everything."

"This has Sophia all over it!" Susan's nails dug into his wrist. "She's afraid you'll take the company, so she's pushing Henry to crush you!"

"Henry wouldn't—" Thomas began, but the image of his brother's unshakable authority burned in his mind. 

If Henry said it, he'd do it. Always had.

"He's cutting off your lifeline and you're defending him?" Susan's voice rose, sharp enough for nurses in the hall to glance in. "Wake up, Thomas! There's no place for you in that family anymore!"

The phone hit the wall, screen shattering. Thomas's breath came fast, anger boiling up where hesitation had been.

"He wants a fight? I'll give him one."

"That's better." Susan's tone softened instantly. 

She rubbed his back, her voice smooth, "The board meeting's soon. Oscar's already lined up support for you. We're going to win."