Chapter 263: Whitmore’s Call: Dare You Attend?
Chapter 263: Whitmore’s Call: Dare You Attend?
Seraphina's POV
I was buried under a stack of quarterly financial reports, but my brain refused to cooperate. The numbers blurred into a mess after Olivia’s bombshell about the supplier crisis yesterday. I rubbed my temples, fighting off a headache that had been stalking me since I dragged myself out of bed.
The intercom crackled. “Ms. Calloway? Charlotte Whitmore’s here to see you. No appointment.”
Charlotte freaking Whitmore? My eyebrows shot up. What the hell did she want?
“Send her in,” I said, sitting up straight and forcing my face into a mask of cool professionalism.
Charlotte stormed in like she owned the damn place, her designer heels clicking with purpose. “Seraphina,” she purred, plopping into the chair across from my desk without waiting for an invite. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything crucial.”
“Charlotte. What a surprise.” My voice stayed flat. “What do you want?”
She crossed her legs, fiddling with her skirt, her manicured nails glinting under the light. “I heard a juicy little rumor that you’re dragging Dorian back into Ravencroft management. Needed to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Damn, word spreads fast. “News travels quick in your little gossip circle, doesn’t it?”
“So it’s true?” Her perfectly arched brows lifted. “After all the shit he’s pulled?”
I locked eyes with her, unflinching. “Ravencroft’s decisions are Ravencroft’s business. Period.”
She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, Seraphina. You’re drowning, aren’t you? Everyone knows this company’s tanking under your watch.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Take a hint. Walk away—from the company, and from Leander.”
My jaw clenched, but I kept my cool. “Is that why you’re here, Charlotte? To tell me I’m not good enough to run my own damn company or be with Leander?”
“I’m here because I get Leander’s world.” Her smile turned vicious, like a shark smelling blood. “You were a cute distraction—the brainy Yale girl with the tragic past. But he needs someone who lifts him up, not a captain of a sinking ship.”
I stood slowly, letting my chair slide back with a deliberate scrape. “Ravencroft Group is for my daughter, Isolde. It’ll never sink while I’m in charge.” I strode to the door, pulling it open. “As for Leander, our relationship isn’t up for your shitty opinions.”
Her face flushed crimson as she stood, clutching her purse so hard her knuckles turned white. “You’re screwing up, Seraphina!” she hissed, practically spitting as she shoved past me.
“Wouldn’t be my first rodeo,” I shot back, calm as ice. “But it’d be your mistake to underestimate me again.”
---
Two hours later, I faced a swarm of reporters in Ravencroft’s press hall. Camera flashes hit me like a damn strobe light as I stepped to the podium, my heels steady even though my stomach was doing flips.
“Good afternoon,” I started, my voice booming through the mic. “I’ve called this conference to announce a major shift in Ravencroft Group’s leadership.”
The room went dead silent, pens hovering, recorders thrust forward.
“Effective immediately, I’m stepping back from daily operations to focus on long-term strategy. Dorian Ravencroft will return as Chief Operating Officer, handling day-to-day business.”
The questions erupted like a damn volcano.
“Ms. Calloway, is this your choice?”
“What triggered this sudden move?”
“Is Ravencroft in trouble?”
“Does this tie to yesterday’s stock drop?”
I raised a hand, shutting them down. “This decision is about using our best resources—like Dorian’s proven business skills—to tackle market challenges. I’m still Chairman and majority shareholder, overseeing the big picture.”
A Wall Street Journal reporter stood. “Given your history with Mr. Ravencroft, how can shareholders trust this setup?”
Fair question. “Professional talent doesn’t always align with personal drama,” I replied smoothly. “Dorian’s skills benefit Ravencroft. We’re prioritizing the company.”
Like letting a wolf guard the sheep—while we rig the place with cameras.
After fifteen grueling minutes, I wrapped it up. “Thanks for coming. We’re excited for Ravencroft’s growth under this new structure.” I ignored the shouted follow-ups, keeping my poker face until the doors shut behind me. Only then did my shoulders sag.
---
“You were incredible,” Leander said, slipping into my office past midnight. He shut the door softly. “The press is calling it ‘the slickest corporate chess move of the year.’”
I glanced up from my laptop, exhaustion dragging at me. “They’re also calling it ‘surrender,’ ‘desperation,’ and ‘the beginning of the end.’”
He crossed to me, his strong hands working the knots in my shoulders. “That’s the plan. Let them think you’re down.”
I melted into his touch. “Hell, this feels like shaking hands with the devil.”
“It’s dragging the devil into the spotlight,” he countered, his breath warm on my ear. “Where we can track every damn move.”
“The board’s split,” I muttered. “Half think I’ve lost it, the other half think I’ve been in cahoots with Dorian all along.”
Leander perched on my desk, facing me. “That split works for us. Keeps everyone guessing.”
I nodded, fueled by his steady presence. “With Dorian tied up in operations, we’ve got space to trace those shell companies.”
“Exactly.” His fingers intertwined with mine. “And with everyone glued to the corporate soap opera…”
“No one’s watching our real plays,” I finished, squeezing his hand. “With you here, I’m not scared of this storm.”
The muted TV in the corner flashed business news, my face next to Dorian’s as analysts tore into the announcement, their expressions ranging from doubtful to outright panicked.
I turned away. “Olivia will track every financial move. Every deal, meeting, call Dorian makes.”
“I’ll have Nathan lock down security protocols,” Leander added. “Double authentication on all comms. Everything encrypted.”
I nodded. “Dorian’s return is just step one. Whether he keeps that spot depends on his game—and how long we let him play it.”
It was a risky-ass plan, but necessary. Bring Dorian close to watch him, let him think he’s winning, while we dig up proof of his financial scams. It made my skin crawl to work with him again, but survival sometimes means swallowing bitter pills.
Leander’s phone pinged with an urgent tone. He frowned as he checked it, then handed it over. “Whitmore family charity gala. We’re invited.”
I scanned the digital invite, noting the fancy design and high-end venue. Scrolling to the guest list, I froze. There it was, clear as day: Seraphina Calloway and Leander Kingsley, listed among the VIPs.
I stared at the screen, Charlotte’s icy glare and veiled threats flashing in my mind. “The Whitmores are playing some twisted game,” I muttered. “I just can’t figure out their damn angle.”
Leander’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he took the phone back. “I don’t like this, Seraphina. Feels like a setup. This gala—it’s got to be aimed at you.”
I leaned back in my chair, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “Let them come. I’m curious to see what kind of stunt they think they can pull.” I met his gaze, steady and unshaken. “Whatever game they’re playing, we’ll handle it.”