The old man looked down at the crumpled paper on his lap but did not pick it up yet.
"The second option," Grace continued, "is that we discuss punctuality. Specifically, why Mr. Kael Everwyn arrived twenty minutes late… and why several others seemed to arrive slightly after the scheduled time as well."
The air in the room changed.
"As you can imagine," Grace said softly, "arrivals can sometimes send certain messages. It might be beneficial for all of us to clarify what message was intended."
She folded her hands neatly on the table.
"I will allow you to decide which topic would be more productive for everyone involved, Mr. Everworth."
The old man's anger cooled instantly.
Because this was no longer a simple insult.
This was a trap.
He immediately understood that the second option was impossible.
If he chose that, he would be exposing his own side.
The delayed arrivals had been intentional.
An intimidation tactic.
A way to show dominance before the meeting even began.
If that was exposed here, in this room, he would not only look like a hypocrite—
He would make enemies of his own allies.
So, slowly, very slowly, he picked up the crumpled paper from his lap and opened it.
As his eyes moved across the page, the color drained from his face.
Line after line.
Transaction after transaction.
Crimes. Deals. Names. Dates.
Things that had been buried so deeply he had believed no one would ever find them.
Yet the Piao family had.