Chapter 8 - The Shadow Deal
Sylvester stood perfectly still, letting the hysterical woman tire herself out.
"Your grandmother called me a thug in public to protect her political reputation," Sylvester explained, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "In private, she begged me to protect her shipping routes from the cartel. She knew you were too arrogant, too weak, and too obsessed with dresses and galas to protect the bloodline."
He gestured to the ballroom around them.
"This hotel," Sylvester continued smoothly. "The charity foundation you pretend to run. The mansion you sleep in. I own all of it now. I have owned the mortgage on your life for forty-eight hours."
Vivienne’s knees completely gave out. She collapsed back onto the wet marble floor, her manicured hands clutching her hair.
She hadn't just poured champagne on a stranger. She had poured champagne on the absolute master of her universe. She had insulted, mocked, and tried to banish the man who literally held the deed to her entire existence.
"Please," Vivienne begged, all of her high-society arrogance evaporating into pathetic, desperate groveling. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. I was stressed. Please don't take my home. I have nowhere to go."
Sylvester looked down at her with the exact same cold, unfeeling expression he had worn when she poured the drink on him.
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"You told me to know my place," Sylvester said quietly.
👉 The legendary boss was ready to deliver his final judgment, and Vivienne was about to learn the true cost of disrespect.
