Chapter 184
Lucius extended his hand toward her. "Come on, let's go accept the world's blessings."
Beatrice looked up at him calmly, not moving.
Lucius wasn't bothered. He withdrew his hand and pointed at the sea of flowers and crowds below.
"See that? Tonight, the entire city will know you're my woman. Frederick is just a pathetic fool who couldn't even keep his own wife."
His voice was thick with vengeful satisfaction.
The moment he finished speaking, the door burst open.
Not knocked—slammed.
Lucius's most trusted assistant stumbled in, face drained of all color, expensive shirt collar soaked with sweat.
"Mr. Jones! We have a problem!"
Lucius's good mood was shattered instantly. He frowned, snapping irritably, "What's the panic? Is the sky falling?"
"The sky... the sky really is falling!" The assistant's voice trembled.
He rushed to Lucius's side, lowering his voice and speaking rapidly.
Beatrice was too far away to catch the specifics.
But she could clearly see Lucius's expression transform in mere seconds—from triumphant satisfaction at the peak, plummeting instantly into an icy abyss.
The color drained from his face bit by bit until he turned deathly pale.
"What did you say?" His voice was barely a whisper, as if afraid to disturb something. "Say that again."
"We've been played!" The assistant's voice cracked with desperation.
"What Frederick submitted wasn't the proposal we got our hands on! Everything he leaked was a smokescreen!"
Lucius's body swayed, instinctively gripping the bar behind him for support.
The assistant had abandoned all pretense of decorum, grabbing Lucius's arm. "To secure the Grandwick Village project, we invested every liquid asset in the company, plus the short-term loans from the European consortium! Now... now it's all tied up!"
"The Grandwick Village project—there's a supplementary clause from the local government requiring completion of environmental restoration before any commercial development! The restoration cycle is at least 3 years long, and the costs are astronomical! Frederick's proposal factored that in, but ours didn't!"
"This isn't a project that can turn a profit short-term—it's a money pit! Frederick never intended to compete with us. He deliberately hyped this project to lure us in!"
Each word hit like a sledgehammer against Lucius's temples.
He violently shoved the assistant away, eyes bloodshot like a cornered beast.
"Impossible... absolutely impossible! My plan was flawless!"
"It's true, Mr. Jones!"
The assistant was nearly in tears. "The bank has already called. Our misappropriation of loan funds for different investment targets constitutes a breach of contract. They're demanding immediate repayment of principal plus triple the penalty fees! But we don't have the money!"
"If we can't liquidate assets within a month, all the company's commercial divisions will collapse! Then... we'll have no choice but to file for bankruptcy!"
The word "bankruptcy" exploded in Lucius's mind.
He staggered back two steps, knocking over a nearby chair.
His proud business empire, his capital for revenge, his bargaining chip for love...
All crumbling to dust in just a few minutes?
He had lost.
Lost utterly, completely devastated.
He whipped around, staring at Beatrice with deadly intensity.
Outside, the preset countdown chimes rang out.
Nine o'clock sharp.
The massive LED screens on the building across the street blazed to life.
But what appeared wasn't Lucius's carefully crafted proposal video, nor Beatrice's name.
Instead, a single line in the simplest font:
[Congratulations to the Stuart Group on successfully acquiring all distressed assets of Eldoria Venture Capital.]
Venture Capital—that was Lucius's company.
Broadcasting citywide wasn't a proposal of the century, but the public execution of a business empire.
The crowd in the plaza below erupted.
First, stunned silence, then explosive uproar.
Countless phone cameras turned toward those massive screens, flashbulbs creating a blinding sea of stars.
People whispered, exclaimed, even whistled with schadenfreude, their voices penetrating the thick soundproof glass in muffled waves.
Venture Capital.
His company.
His life's work and final gamble.
The final judgment: distressed assets...
"No..." A broken sound escaped his throat, as if someone had seized him by the neck.
He stared at the screen. "It's fake... this is Frederick's psychological warfare... he wants me to panic..."
The assistant collapsed nearby, nearly in despair. "Mr. Jones... our overseas accounts have been frozen, and the European consortium... we can't reach them either..."
"Shut up!"
Lucius spun around, kicking over the table in front of him.
Like a beast driven to the brink, he paced the room frantically, eyes bloodshot.
All his plans, all his schemes, his supposedly brilliant strategy—it had all been a joke from start to finish.
Frederick had treated him like a clown, watching him build his elaborate stage, then kicking it down in front of the entire city at the moment of his greatest pride.
He hadn't just lost.
He'd been toyed with.
Beatrice sat quietly on the sofa, watching this farce reach its conclusion with cold eyes.
Just then, Lucius's phone rang.
The ringtone was classical piano, eerily out of place in the current chaos.
Lucius froze, his movements stopping completely.
The sound seemed to nail him in place.
After a long moment, he came to his senses, pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and the madness instantly drained from his face, replaced by something deeper—fear.
A name pulsed on the screen: Aurora.
He took a deep breath, walked to the corner, and answered.
"It's me."
His voice was dry and hoarse, completely stripped of its earlier arrogance.
Whatever was said on the other end made Lucius's spine visibly collapse.
His tailored suit now looked empty and ridiculous.
"I can explain... this is a trap, it's Frederick..."
"...No, the funding isn't a problem, it's just temporary..."
"Give me three days, no, one day! I can definitely..."
His explanations grew weaker, his voice lower, until only faint, almost pleading fragments remained.
Beatrice couldn't make out what he was saying, but she could see his hand gripping the phone, trembling violently, knuckles white from excessive force.
A few minutes later, the call ended.
Lucius slowly lowered the phone and stood there for a long time, like a statue drained of its soul.