Chapter 336

"You're just a kid too!" Lily exclaimed, her curiosity bubbling over like a shaken soda can.

"My eyes needed bleach after seeing that. You really want to ruin your perfect vision?" Henry shot back, wiping imaginary dirt from his eyes.

Lily shook her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging.

The temptation was strong, but her brother's warning made her reconsider. Some mysteries were better left unsolved.

"Mom's hiring bodyguards for us," Lily announced, kicking her feet against the chair. "We'll be like zoo animals with handlers."

Henry smirked. "Then you'll be the perfect distraction while I slip away."

Lily pouted, then blurted, "If Scumbag Dom really marries that Montgomery woman, we should pretend he doesn't exist! Who needs a dad anyway?"

Henry studied his sister's innocent face, then said with conviction, "That wedding won't happen."

"Why not?"

"She's toxic."

"So is Daddy! They'd be perfect for each other!"

Henry opened his mouth, then closed it. His four-year-old sister had just out-logicked him.

Maybe he should let Dominic Blackwood keep playing the fool until Henry came of age. Then he'd release the hotel footage of Zoe Montgomery and Julian Whitmore's scandalous night.

Now that would be nuclear revenge.

But patience wasn't Henry's strong suit.

He wanted payback now.

There would be plenty of time for more creative punishments later.

At Thornfield Industries' executive meeting, Evelyn unveiled her bold plan after days of deliberation.

The room went dead silent.

Department heads exchanged wide-eyed glances, jaws practically hitting the polished mahogany table.

Michael Sterling, Evelyn's most devoted supporter, broke the tension with thunderous applause. He'd cheer if she set their headquarters on fire.

The other executives mechanically joined in, their frozen smiles masking internal panic. The boss wanted to burn money? As long as she signed their paychecks...

"Does the plan seem... unwise?" Evelyn asked, sipping her espresso.

The dam burst.

"Miss Thorne, we know you're loaded, but this is financial suicide! Six million minimum! Our order books are empty and you want to give away premium drones?"

"Replacing lenses on two thousand Tempest drones? The cost alone—"

"I think it's genius," Michael interjected. "And they're not free! A dime per unit."

"A dime? That's not even pocket change!"

"Do the math—two thousand dimes makes two hundred bucks."

Crickets.

Evelyn set down her cup with a decisive clink. "I know the concerns. But right now, we're not chasing profit—we're rebuilding trust. No one will buy our drones, no matter how advanced, with our current reputation."

The VP sighed. "If you're willing to invest that much in damage control... let's try it."

The marketing head stood. "I'll draft the announcement immediately."

Within hours, Thornfield Industries' website published a bombshell:

"All previous Tempest Series drone owners can upgrade to our new high-end lens model for just ten cents."

The internet exploded. A $3000 drone for a dime? The tech world lost its collective mind.