At Ivory Towers,

Thursday morning began with a quiet tour after breakfast.

Alaric led Aveline into their newly renovated closet, the air still sharp with the scent of fresh paint and wood. Light from the ceiling spilled in soft brilliance, catching on the tall glass panels and sleek doors.

Aveline's lips curved as she glanced around, approving of the interior designer's choices. "It looks perfect," she murmured.

Alaric gave a small nod, turning to the housekeeper, Martha. "Get rid of the scent before we move in," he instructed, his tone calm but firm.

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Lancaster," Martha responded, bracing herself for the long day ahead.

When they left the closet, they moved toward the private garage below. An entire floor was reserved only for Alaric's cars. Rows of gleaming luxury vehicles rested under soft overhead lighting. Each one expensive enough to turn heads on any street, yet they looked like soldiers lined up for inspection.

Alaric walked ahead, his hand casually slipping into his pocket. "I'll drop you off," he said as they reached one of the waiting cars.

Aveline slowed, her heels clicking faintly against the marble floor. "No. I have a meeting at PowerLunchers with Marston & Co." And the venue was in a different direction.

His stride slowed abruptly, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "For negotiation?" he asked. There was no other reason she would bother meeting the Marstons.

Aveline turned, her gaze steady as she gave a small nod. Then, with a hint of playfulness, she added, "The Marstons are loaded. If he can't liquidate his assets, I'll take his shares… maybe even a ship." She winked, her confidence smooth, and the idea eased the tension in his shoulders.

Relief washed over Alaric as understanding dawned. She wasn't going to negotiate down from the billion-dollar lawsuit. She was ready to claim that fortune in a different format entirely.

"I'm just a call away," he reminded her, because Theodore wouldn't give in so easily.

"I know." She pecked his lips and got in her car.

Alaric watched her drive away, his jaw tightening with worry despite his trust in her capabilities.

Theodore Marston was a cunning and ruthless businessman who had successfully gained control of his mother's family empire.

yet, even after using all his resources, they hadn't been able to uncover Thedore's father's identity. Either his mother had been a single parent, or Theodore had erased that history with precision.

They couldn't find any other Marstons, and infiltrating Marston & Co.'s headquarters without alerting Theodore was difficult.

He dialed a string of numbers and instructed once it was answered, "PowerLunchers."

Three days later, Aveline was fine without another incident of seeing Damien. So they had brushed it off as stress. But Theodore Marston was still a threat in Alaric's eyes.

He got in his car and the chauffeur drove towards NexGuard. He was on the verge of sending Ezra to Aveline as her assistant, to protect her and to help her through the business.

But he couldn't find anyone better to follow him through the orders of Apex, NexGuard and investigations.

And it was difficult for him to trust someone so easily to have them beside Aveline.

....

At PowerLunchers,

The meeting room was all glass and light. Theodore Marston frowned the moment he sat down. The walls were transparent, every expression visible, cameras were at angles he could not ignore, and the people outside could clearly watch them.

He realized then why Aveline had chosen this place. It was private enough that their words wouldn't leave the room, but public enough that their actions were watched, recorded, impossible to twist.

She was shrewd for a reason. And he knew it. Yet, he couldn't believe he had fallen for it while trying to trouble her just a bit.

Five lawyers sat beside Theodore, papers stacked in neat files, pens ready in their hands like weapons.

Across from them, Aveline sat calm, her lawyer beside her. She didn't twitch, didn't break eye contact. She simply watched.

Theodore's lawyers started first. Their voices were polished and firm. "Ms. Laurent, the lawsuit itself is invalid. The posts in question have already been taken down."

Aveline's lawyer didn't flinch. He shoved a stack of papers onto the long table, sheets spreading wide. Headlines, articles, screenshots of comments and reposts, printouts of viral threads, it was all there.

"Taken down?" he repeated with a faint scoff. "Every post here went viral before it disappeared. The damage was already done. You gained publicity using Ms. Laurent's name."

Theodore's lawyers exchanged glances. They had heard Aveline's lawyer wasn't much experienced, but his voice cut through with authority.

One of Theodore's lawyers leaned forward. "We took responsibility. We removed the content," they insisted.

"Who started the fire?" Aveline's lawyer shot back. He tapped a sheet with neat figures highlighted. "Internet searches about the Marston company before the event, barely traceable."

Theodore's eyes narrowed. Wait. How did they get the statistics from before the event? He looked suspiciously at Aveline.

Aveline's lawyer flipped the page to show other statistics. "On the day of the event? Ten times higher. After the event? One hundred and twelve percent higher. Every spike is tied to Ms. Laurent's name. You turned my client into your brand ambassador without her consent."

One lawyer sneered, "We hired Ms. Laurent. Why can't we tell the world about it?"

"Then why didn't you tell the world about the event management company you hired?" he countered smoothly. "Because they weren't worth the headlines. You used Ms. Laurent's name, not her work. And let me remind you, hardly any article credited the floral art. The credit was swallowed by your company's name. You should be grateful the Laurents have been quiet."

Theodore's jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached. The Laurents were quiet?

The Laurents and Alaric Lancaster were the very reason he had been forced to delete every post, leaving netizens to speculate wildly about what had really happened.

The humiliation still burned.

Aveline sat still, her hands folded neatly on the table, eyes calm as her lawyer's words carried weight.

One man against five, and yet, the silence on Theodore's side felt heavier.

Finally, her lawyer turned to her. "Given their unwillingness to negotiate in good faith, it would be better if we proceed directly with court." Because, clearly, this wasn't negotiation, they were trying to silence them.

But before Aveline could answer, one of Theodore's lawyers cut in. "Since the posts are gone, our client is willing to compensate with one million dollars."

Her lawyer gave a short laugh, almost a sneer. "That alone is my fee, for your information."

Then his voice hardened. "Your company earned publicity worth a billion, and climbing. You used it across all media. You should be happy we aren't charging you twenty billion."

Theodore snapped, finally losing his composure. "Twenty billion? Have you ever even seen a billion?"

The room stilled. The lawyer looked at Theodore as if he had lost his mind. He might not have seen it, but that didn't mean his client had to be poor.

Aveline's voice broke the silence. "I have."

Her gaze lifted to Theodore, a faint tilt of her head, a smirk curling at her lips. "If you wanted me as your brand ambassador for even one day, I would charge you no less than a few billion, Chairman Marston. Because Laurents aren't just anybody. And I wasn't taught to let others take advantage of me or my name."

His eyes narrowed, but she leaned back, unbothered.

"If people outside learn how you rip them off, no one will work with you," Theodore warned, his voice low and sharp.

Aveline laughed, light and almost mocking. "Theodore Marston, did you think I survive on an event company's income?"

She had enough to survive for decades with her current lifestyle. And her life didn't depend on Grace and Bloom. She was working for it because she wanted to do what she liked the most.

"Grace & Bloom is my passion, not my lifeline."

If somebody thought it was her weakness, it wasn't her problem.

"Did you think I didn't know your goal when you asked me to build that floral art?" she asked.

Theodore felt the blood drain from his face. Panic clawed at his chest as questions raced through his mind. How much did she really know?

Had she uncovered his quiet intentions, or the entire scheme?

Had he walked into her trap, thinking he was the one setting it?

The chilling thought settled in: he had played right into her hands.

And his realization was too late.

Her eyes glinted as she continued. "I stole the limelight from your exhibit. 'What's better than working directly with the winner?' that's what you said yourself. And I wrote a special clause in the contract for the very same reason."

A businessman approaching a mere contestant? She didn't believe him from the very beginning.

She leaned back. "You came for revenge?" She tilted her head, lips curling. "I've already mastered it."

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