Alle Kapitel von The Ice King's Fake Girlfriend: Kapitel 41 – Kapitel 50

"Mr. Vance, Mr. Sterling, are your legs broken, or do I need to call building security to assist your exit?" Arthur’s voice dropped an octave, vibrating with an authority that had built the Ravencourt empire from the ground up. Mr. Vance didn't wait to be asked twice. He scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the edge of the vintage Persian rug Tiffany had spent three agonizing days sourcing, and practically threw himself into the still-open elevator doors. Mr. Sterling scurried right behind him like a frightened rat deserting a sinking ship. Victoria lingered for a fraction of a second, her venomous glare shifting from Arthur to Julian, and finally landing on Tiffany with a look of pure, unadulterated poison. "This isn't over, Julian. You can hide behind your grandfather and your little project manager all you want, but the board still answers to numbers, not sentimentality." With a sharp toss of her chin, she spun on her heel and m

Arthur Ravencourt’s sharp gaze pinned Tiffany to the spot. "And you, young woman. You stood your ground against Victoria without blinking. Most people fold the moment the family name is weaponized against them. Why didn't you?" Tiffany swallowed, setting her mug down with a soft clink. "Because a name doesn't design a room, Mr. Ravencourt. And it certainly doesn't fix bad taste. Victoria was attacking the work, not the logic, and I don't let people undermine my portfolio for the sake of family drama." A stunned silence fell over the penthouse. Julian looked at Tiffany, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in the faintest hint of a genuine smile—a rare, unguarded expression that completely transformed his austere face. Arthur stared at her for a long, agonizing moment before throwing his head back and barking a sharp, booming laugh. "Spoken like someone who actually builds things instead of inheriting the

"I am quite capable of clearing my own boardrooms, Grandfather," Julian said, his voice dropping into a register so cold it could freeze glass. Arthur gave a dry, dismissive wheeze, leaning heavily on his cane as he turned toward the private elevator. "We shall see, boy. We shall see. Good evening, Miss Everhart. Do keep him out of trouble; he's dangerously short on imagination." The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, leaving Julian and Tiffany alone in the cavernous, high-ceilinged penthouse. The heavy silence rushed back in, but this time it was laced with a sharp, volatile edge. Tiffany immediately stepped out from the circle of Julian’s arm, putting a deliberate foot of distance between them. She crossed her arms over her chest, her bright orange blazer stark against the monochrome decor. "Exclusively tied?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Did you just unilaterally bind my design firm to your corporat

"You were already tied to my projects," Julian countered, stepping forward, his voice lowering with an intensity that demanded attention. "I merely formalized it to protect you from Nathaniel’s continued interference. Do you honestly think he would have stopped at the boutique hotel chain?" Tiffany stopped pacing, turning to glare at him, her chest heaving slightly. "That’s not the point, Julian! The point is that you made a unilateral decision about my business without giving me a single word of warning. I am not one of your corporate acquisitions. I am not a subsidiary you can shuffle around on a spreadsheet whenever your grandfather makes a snide remark!" Julian’s jaw tightened. He pulled his hands from his pockets, taking another measured step toward her until the space between them felt entirely too charged. "You think I treat you like an acquisition?" "Sometimes you act like you own every room you

"Everyone matters!" Tiffany fired back, though her arms uncrossed and fell uselessly to her sides as the sheer gravity of his presence began to melt her righteous fury. "Especially when they're whispering behind my back at every high-society gallery opening in the city." Julian’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous spark flashing in their dark depths. "Who was whispering?" "Does it matter?" Tiffany turned away, hugging her arms tightly across the sharp lapels of her vibrant orange gown as she stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass at the glittering Manhattan skyline. "That’s the reality of stepping into your world, Julian. Every time you flash your wealth to solve a problem I didn't even ask you to solve, it fuels the narrative that I'm just another pretty accessory you keep on retainer." The silence in the penthouse stretched, thick and suffocating, before Julian closed the remaining gap. He didn't touch her, but she