CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ADRIAN’s POV

The Hargrove Financial Summit happened once a year and attendance was never optional for anyone serious about remaining relevant in this city’s elite circle. Old money, new money, political connections and corporate ambitions all gathered inside one building for an evening that looked like networking and functioned like warfare.

I had attended every year for the past six years, but this year felt different, even before I walked in. Damien rode with me, he spent most of the drive scrolling through his phone with his usual relaxed indifference while I reviewed acquisition updates from the legal team.

The last six weeks have been tough for Laurent Group, but the numbers had started to stabilize a bit after the Riverton damage, though still far from recovery, but enough to walk into tonight without looking wounded. Appearances mattered at these events more than actual figures.

“Valencia rescheduled,” Damien said without looking up from his phone.

“I know.” I replied.

“This makes the third time,” he said again.

“I know that too.” I responded uncomfortably.

He glanced toward me briefly. “Arden Corporation approached them again yesterday.”

I kept reading the document in my hand. “I’m aware.”

Damien leaned back against the seat. “She’s systematic.”

I know exactly who he was referring to as “she.” Selene Arden. I adjusted the document in my hand as I kept on reading without commenting.

“Most people targeting a competitor go after the public structures first…make noise, create headlines.” He paused. “But she went underneath instead. Supply lines, shipping routes, backend partners. Nobody sees it clearly until the foundation is already gone.”

I lowered the document slowly. “Are you admiring her strategy?”

Damien smiled faintly. “I’m warning us about it.”

The car stopped outside the Hargrove building. Camera flashes went off beyond the private barriers as security teams moved into position around us. I straightened my jacket before stepping out.

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The ballroom was already crowded by the time we arrived. The kind that felt intentional and powerful people gathered closely enough to observe each other without appearing to.

Damien disappeared toward the bar within minutes. I moved through the room at a measured pace, stopping where necessary, exchanging words with investors and executives who approached diligently.

Everyone wanted reassurance tonight. Six weeks of turbulence had left Laurent Group’s investors visibly panicked, and even though the worst of the damage had begun to level out, nervous people still needed to hear steadiness spoken aloud before they believed it. People rarely needed complete truth, they needed enough of it to feel comfortable.

I had almost reached the far end of the ballroom when I saw her, Selene Arden.

She stood near the central gathering of executives, a glass of champagne held at her side, listening to something a foreign delegate was saying with a particular quality of attention. She wore a deep navy gown tonight, understated against the louder choices around her.

She hadn’t seen me yet. Or she had and simply hadn’t reacted. With her, the difference was difficult to measure.

I crossed the room toward her without fully deciding to. The foreign delegate noticed me approaching first and stepped back slightly with a polite nod. Selene turned then, unhurried, like she had known I was coming before I arrived.

“The summit attracts the same circles,” I said as

I accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter before speaking again. “Valencia postponed our negotiations again this morning.” I took a sip from the glass.

Her expression remained composed. “Business calendars shift, Mr Laurent.”

“They shift more frequently when outside pressure is applied.”

Selene tilted her head very slightly. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“I’m observing a pattern,” I replied.

“Patterns require interpretation.” She took a slow sip of champagne from her own glass. “Yours may be incorrect.”

A nearby group of executives glanced toward us briefly before returning to their own conversations. We were being watched, which meant every word carried double weight tonight.

“You’ve been methodical,” I said carefully. “Blackthorn, Riverton, Valencia, Singapore. Each one connected to a specific pressure point inside Laurent Group’s structure.”

“Arden Corporation pursues viable acquisitions,” her tone placid.

“In a very specific sequence.” I replied as I held her gaze.

Her eyes held mine steadily. “Perhaps your company simply has many viable assets, Mr. Laurent.”

The way she said that landed with an edge I couldn’t place. “You’ve studied us distinctly,” I replied.

“I study every market I enter,” she said as she took another sip from the champagne glass in her hand.

Around us the ballroom continued its noise…conversations, laughter, glasses clinked, but the space between Selene and me had gone unusually quiet.

“You already know how this ends,” I said carefully. “The pressure you’re applying. You mapped the outcome before you started.”

She looked at me with a face void of expression. “Most outcomes can be mapped if you pay attention early enough.”

“And what outcome did you map for Laurent Group?” I asked with half-baked curiousity.

She considered that for a moment longer than felt comfortable. “That depends entirely on Laurent Group.”

Before I could respond, a sudden change in the room’s atmosphere pulled my attention sideways.

Near the main entrance, security personnel had moved into a tighter formation around someone. Voices lowered across nearby tables, then a ripple of awareness moved through the ballroom.

One of my assistants appeared at my elbow immediately. “Sir.”

I turned toward him. His expression was controlled but tight. “What happened?”

He leaned slightly closer, keeping his voice beneath the surrounding noise. “There’s been a development outside. One of the summit’s senior board members was found unconscious in his vehicle in the underground car park ten minutes ago.”

My eyes widened. “Unconscious, how?”

“Security believes he was drugged, sir.”

The room’s ambiance had noticeably changed now. Groups pulling together, phones appearing, the particular energy of a public space absorbing private information badly.

I looked back toward Selene. She was already watching the entrance with an indifferent expression, her composure focused and careful.

“Do they know who the board member is?” I asked my assistant quietly.

He hesitated for half a second. “Mr. Victor Hale, sir.”

I was stupefied. Victor Hale. The same man who had financed two of Laurent Group’s overseas structures and almost never appeared at public events personally but suddenly appeared on Arden Corporation list of investors and even had lunch with Selene twice.

I turned back toward Selene slowly. Her eyes had already moved from the entrance back to me, her composure still focused.

I knew she knows Victor Hale. His name had appeared on Arden Corporation’s private investor meeting logs my security team had been quietly tracking since the archive breach, and they still had a business meetup four days ago. What I don’t know was the nature of that connection.

“You met with him four days ago,” I said quietly.

Selene held my gaze for a steady second. “I meet with a great many people.”

“Victor Hale isn’t a great many people. He financed two of Laurent Group’s overseas structures and almost never appears at public events. Yet he attended your private investor meeting and now he’s unconscious in a car park.” I paused. “That’s a specific sequence.”

She frowned slightly. “Careful, Mr. Laurent. You’re starting to sound like someone who’s been investigating me.”

“And you’re deflecting like someone who already knows what happened to him.”

There was a beat of silence, then Selene set her champagne glass down on a nearby surface with a soft, deliberate click.

“Victor Hale has enemies that predate anything connected to me or to you,” she said evenly. “If you want to understand tonight, I’d suggest looking closer to your own circle before looking outward.”

She held my gaze one moment longer than necessary before stepping back. “Excuse me.”

She moved away through the crowd at that same unhurried pace, paused once to speak briefly with a delegate near the far wall before disappearing through a side corridor.

I stood where she left me, glass in hand, the ballroom’s noise pressing back in from all sides.

Closer to my own circle. I turned that phrase over repeatedly.

Damien reappeared beside me, a fresh drink in hand, his expression unreadable in the way it became when he was paying very close attention to something.

“I heard about Hale,” he said. He looked at me more intensively, “I guess you heard already too.”

Then he paused briefly, “You look like you’re thinking very hard about something.”

I turned to look at him directly.

“Selene Arden gave me a disturbing advice.”

“And what was that,” he asked as he took a sip.

“She told me to look closer to my own circle.” I answered vaguely.

Damien’s expression barely changed. He took another sip from his glass before responding.

“Interesting advice.”

He held my gaze for a second, then looked calmly away toward the entrance where security was still managing the situation.

“Hale was unstable,” Damien said lightly. “He had problems long before tonight.”

“You knew him well enough to know that?” I asked.

Damien shrugged once, easy and relaxed. “Everyone in this room knows a thing about everyone else. That’s the whole point of these events.”

He clapped a hand briefly against my shoulder before moving away into the crowd. I watched him go, then I looked back toward the side corridor where Selene had disappeared.

Look closer to your own circle.

The words were direct but the way she said it seems precise and deliberate, it felt less like an advice and more like something she already knew the answer to and was waiting for me to catch up.