Chapter 244

The fire in Zoe Montgomery's gaze burned bright, untamed and unapologetic.

Julian Whitmore felt something long dormant stir within him.

If Zoe succeeded, so would he.

A woman could rise through her child—why not a man?

His legacy would be carved through his offspring!

At precisely ten that evening, a sleek black Rolls-Royce glided into the Blackwood estate.

Dominic Blackwood had just returned from an exclusive dinner.

He'd attended solely because the guest of honor was the leading innovator in Eldermere's drone industry.

Dominic wanted every detail about Evelyn Thorne's company.

What he learned chilled him.

Though Thornfield Industries had been rebuilt, its domestic sales had plateaued.

Apex Innovations thrived overseas—renowned, respected.

Yet Evelyn hadn't leveraged that brand in Eldermere, stubbornly clinging to Thornfield's name.

Same technology, different prestige.

No marketing. No campaigns.

The industry titan had whispered that if Evelyn didn't turn things around in six months, she'd be forced back to Bridgedale in disgrace.

The next afternoon, Evelyn walked alone into the Oceanview Grand Hotel's restaurant.

Norman Whitaker, CEO of Eldermere's largest drone distributor, waited at the reserved table.

"You came alone, Miss Thorne?" Norman adjusted his glasses, his shrewd gaze lingering too long on her fitted blazer.

Evelyn's smile remained polished. "My team's occupied with product development."

She slid a dossier across the table. "Our complete specifications, Mr. Whitaker."

He chuckled, not touching the file. "Oh, I've studied your drones. That's precisely why I requested this... private meeting."

His stare traveled from her face downward, slow and deliberate.

"Your tech is impressive. But Eldermere's market isn't as... receptive as overseas."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her water glass. "Enlighten me."

"Make me your exclusive distributor," Norman leaned in, knee brushing hers beneath the table, "and I'll guarantee dominance. Of course, you'd need to adjust pricing..."

Evelyn recoiled, voice turning glacial. "Our offer is non-negotiable."

"Tsk. Where's the trust?" Norman sighed dramatically. "Business requires... intimacy."

Evelyn's lips curved dangerously. "Define 'intimacy,' Mr. Whitaker."

Seizing the invitation, Norman lunged to her side, pudgy fingers gripping her shoulder.

"A woman like you—smart, stunning—must have men lining up. Why waste time on business when—"

Evelyn's grip on her teacup turned white-knuckled.

Three. Two.

A fist shattered the air—Norman crashed to the floor, nose spurting blood.

Dominic loomed over them, eyes wild.

"Evelyn! Is this what you've reduced yourself to?" He hauled her up, voice raw. "You claim to despise old men, yet let this pig grope you? Is money worth your self-respect?"

The restaurant froze.

Evelyn's cheeks burned. If Dominic hadn't intervened, that teacup would've been shattered against Norman's skull.

"Must you shout?" she hissed.

She grabbed her bag, but Dominic wrenched her back into the chair.

"Answer me!" His voice cracked. "Would you really sell yourself for—"

Evelyn exploded.

The dam broke.