98Edward Harrington, hailing from the affluent and distinguished Harrington family, stood as a figure of wealth and privilege, his surname carrying the weight of centuries-old prestige. He was one of Clara's most fervent suitors, a match eagerly endorsed by her family, who saw in this union a fusion of power, wealth, and social standing. The Webb family, particularly Marlene, harbored aspirations of aligning themselves with the Harrington legacy, viewing Edward's desire to marry Clara as a golden opportunity to elevate their status further.The anticipation of integrating into the Harrington dynasty only intensified the disdain Marlene and Thomas harbored towards Darien. Clara felt a surge of anger at her mother's words, her fists clenching beneath the tablecloth, nails digging into her palm as she fought to keep her voice steady. "Mom, that’s unfair. You haven’t even tasted Darien’s wine yet."Edward, who had been basking in the glow of attention his expensive wine had garnered, n
99As the shock of Kron’s revelation ebbed, he turned to Darien, his curiosity evident. "Where did you find such a wine?" he inquired, his eyes probing.Darien, maintaining his composure under the weight of the room's gaze, simply responded, "It was a gift from a friend."Skepticism and disbelief clouded Marlene’s features. "A friend?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disdain. "What sort of friend gifts a $200,000 bottle of wine?"Thomas, fueled by jealousy and a desire to salvage his tarnished pride, sneered. "A friend, or was it stolen, Darien?" His accusation hung in the air like a toxic cloud, his eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw from the tension.Edward, now a bit ashamed, chimed in with a smirk. "Indeed, how does a scammer come by such treasures? Should we expect the police to come knocking?"The atmosphere thickened with suspicion and malice. Darien, standing amidst the assembly of accusations, clenched his fists at his sides, the injustice burning in his chest.
100Infact, darien just has a vision of Edward fleeing with all their money.In the grand drawing room, lit by the soft glow of chandeliers, a hushed tension settled after Darien's claim.Edward's face flushed red, his anger palpable. "Bankruptcy?" he sputtered, incredulous. "You dare suggest—"But Darien wasn't finished. "Yes, bankruptcy. And not just financial, but moral too. You plan to flee with their investments, leaving nothing but broken promises in your wake." Marlene, Thomas, and the others exchanged nervous glances, the seeds of doubt planted firmly in their minds. Edward, his face a mask of disbelief and anger, immediately retorted, his voice rising like a crescendo of denial. "Slander! That's pure slander, Darien. Our family's company stands on solid ground. Bankruptcy? That's laughable."But Clara, her decision weighing heavily on her, found herself hesitating. She looked from Edward to Darien, torn. The vision Darien described was vivid and terrifyingly plausible. Was
101Lord Webb, sensing the escalating tension, stepped forward, his presence commanding silence. "Let's not descend into chaos," he intoned gravely. "This matter should not be discussed in such a manner. Edward, you handle this with the grace of a true leader."Edward, his face a mask of humility, nodded. "Thank you, Lord Webb. I assure you, our company's integrity remains intact. We will continue to thrive, despite these unfounded accusations."Edward, seizing the moment, stepped into the center of the room, his posture one of unwavering confidence. "I thank you, Lord Webb, for your wise words. It's in times like these that our true strength is tested," he said, offering a gracious nod to Webb, then turned to the others with a broad, reassuring smile. "To those who stand with me, your trust will not be misplaced. We will emerge from this stronger."Marlene, stepped beside Edward, laying a hand on his shoulder with visible pride. "See, this is what real leadership looks like. Forgive t
102Once out of the villa and near his car, a woman of striking beauty approached him, clad in elegant attire. "Mr. French!" she called out.Darien furrowed his brow, looking at her face, trying to place where he had seen her before. "Who are you? Do we know each other?" he asked, a frown forming.The woman who happened to be Camila, Amelia's sister, irritated that he didn't recognize her despite seeing each other a week ago, was seething with anger. How could he forget someone like her? Someone as beautiful as her? No man had ever forgotten her. "I'm Amelia's sister," she huffed, crossing her arms.Recognition finally dawned on Darien's face. "Ah, Romania," he said with a smile.She corrected him sharply. "It's Camila, Camila Fairchild, not Romania. But that's not important right now.""Ooh, sorry, Roma––Camilla," David replied, slightly surprised. "It's been a while. How can I help you?"Camila's expression turned a mix of concern and frustration. "I need your help," she urgently s
103As Darien fumbled and dropped the syringe, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he muttered, bending down to retrieve it. His professional demeanor struggled against the personal turmoil stirred by the situation.Amelia, lying vulnerable under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, embodied an unexpected distraction. Her figure, a striking silhouette against the muted bedding, was both elegant and intensely alluring. The curve of her waist flowed into rounded hips, and her skin, illuminated by the light, seemed to beckon for attention. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, erratic breaths, each one a silent call that seemed to echo in the tension-filled room.Camila, observing Darien's evident struggle, frowned. "Is everything okay, Mr. French?" she asked, her voice laced with a mix of suspicion and concern.Darien cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Yes, everything's under control," he assured her, avoiding eye contact. "I just need to concentrate on t
1043 hours later,As Amelia guided Darien up the ornate staircase to the second floor, Darien, still reeling from the depth of their previous conversation, felt a mix of apprehension and curiosity about meeting Lord Fairchild again. The elder had always been kind to him, a stark contrast to the often cold world outside.Upon entering the lavish sitting room, Lord Fairchild, seated in a high-backed chair, looked up and a warm smile spread across his face. "Ah, Darien, my boy, welcome!" he exclaimed, his voice rich with genuine affection. He attempted to rise, but Darien quickly gestured for him to stay seated, not wanting to strain his elder."Lord Fairchild, it's an honor to see you again," Darien said, his voice carrying a note of respect. He remembered saving the man's life, an event that had forged a bond between them.Just then, another man entered the room. His presence was commanding, and his sharp suit spoke of wealth and power. Amelia stepped forward, her posture straightenin
105Darien took a deep breath, focusing on the man before him. He noticed the subtle signs: the slight grimace when Hawkins moved, the way his hand occasionally drifted to his side, the faint lines of discomfort etched around his eyes. Undeterred by the tycoon's scoffing and self-assured demeanor, Darien began, his voice steady and filled with conviction, "Mr. Hawkins, your external appearance may be deceiving, but your heart, weak from birth, bears the scars of previous injuries."What?The tycoon, his face etched with incredulity, waved off Darien's words. "What nonsense is this, young man? I exercise rigorously and consume the finest herbs from Tibet and Brazil. My health is impeccable."Hawkins's arrogance resonated through his dismissive tone. Darien couldn't help but detect a subtle flicker of insecurity in the tycoon's eyes, a fear of facing the reality that contradicted his carefully crafted image of invincibility.Darien persisted, undeterred by Hawkins's dismissive attitude