Ch-49

•~•Aziel’s POV

The conference room was silent, save for the woman’s voice at the far end of the table.

The lights were dimmed, and the projector bathed the table in warm golds and cool greens as each slide clicked forward with the tap of her remote.

“…and with the ocean breeze sweeping across the third hole, guests will experience premium golfing without ever leaving the resort.” She spoke, but I was hardly listening to most of what she was saying.

I leaned back slightly, my index finger resting against my lips, nodding once to appear engaged.

Across the long table, the board members looked impressed—some scribbling notes, others nodding in sync, most already sold on the idea. 

My phone vibrated once on the glass table beside me, the buzz sharp and insistent. I glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number.

My eyes narrowed. It was the anonymous caller.

I swiped the call away without hesitation, my jaw tightening. This wasn’t the time.

But barely ten seconds passed before it vibrated again.

This time, it was my mom calling, but I declined it as well, sliding the phone just a little farther from me.

I caught the way Mr. Langston—head of operations—glanced at my phone like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

The presenter finally finished with a practiced smile and a hopeful, “Thank you.”

I brought my hands together in a slow clap. A few others followed suit.

“Good job,” I said. “Let’s move on this. I want groundwork broken before the quarter ends.”

Heads immediately turned my way.

“I’ll be appointing Mr. Reed Kessler as the general overseer to ensure this is executed precisely.”

He straightened in his seat like someone had just pinned a badge to his chest. 

Then came the applause. Handshakes. Gratitude. The usual.

I leaned back forward, my eyes skimming over the room. I had done my homework. On every board member. Every senior staff. 

And Reed? He was one of the dirtiest suits in the building. Slept through budget meetings, manipulated vendor quotes, and redirected project funds straight into his side ventures.

I even found out that, in his effort to cut costs, he had once secretly subcontracted the construction of one of Grant Holdings' resorts to a company already blacklisted for negligence.

The company had a history of cutting corners, and one of their workers had even fallen to his death due to their failure to provide proper safety equipment.

Basically, he was human trash—exactly the kind of man I needed for this project to be a complete and spectacular disaster.

This resort was my plan to crumble Grant Holdings. I mean, if an accident were to happen—like one or two workers dying due to negligence or poor materials—it would turn into a PR nightmare.

"And of course, I knew my mother would do everything in her power to keep the news hidden from the media, but I’d make sure to expose it. The fallout would be catastrophic.

I mean, people would demand accountability and probably blame the CEO, Nathaniel Grant, for putting someone like Reed Kessler in charge of a project this big.

The headlines would scream: Nathaniel Grant’s judgment costs Grant Holdings.

But then—Nathaniel Grant wasn’t me.

It would be my mother’s precious son’s name dragged through the mud, not mine.

I leaned back in my chair, a small smirk creeping up my lips at the thought.

The meeting wrapped up soon after. The last few people shuffled out with their files, still chatting about next steps and deadlines.

I didn’t nod in farewell, didn’t force a smile. I just stayed seated, waiting until the last pair of loafers clicked out the door.

Silence.

Then, my phone vibrated again.

Unknown Number. But not the same one as earlier.

My brow furrowed. That was odd.

The anonymous caller never switched numbers. They were consistent.

I picked it up anyway.

“Hello?” My voice was calm, clipped.

Nothing. Just static. Then slow, steady breathing.

I frowned, lips parting to repeat myself, but the call ended before I could.

I stared at the screen, trying to decide if it had been a mistake—or some prank.

I lowered the phone slowly, considering whether to pocket it. But then it started ringing again.

I glanced at the caller ID—Mom.

I exhaled a breath, long and sharp through my nose, and answered.

“What is it, Mom?”

Her tone was flat. "Dominic found Davian."

For half a second, I stopped breathing.

That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. I made sure I—

I cut the thought off.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice smooth despite the unease rising in my chest like smoke, my hand tightening around the phone.

"Yes. I’m at the hospital. He’s right in front of me."

My heart slammed against my chest.

"I’ll have Dominic send you the hospital details," she said. "There’s something really disturbing Davian brought up. And I need you here to clarify it.”

The line went cut off after that, but I stayed there for another minute or two, staring at the phone in my hand.

The silence in the room felt different now. Heavy.

Dominic found Davian… But how?