At that moment, Emma lowered her gaze and slowly began to shake her head—her breath shallow, her hands clutched together tightly in her lap. Her mind spun in disbelief.
Zane… what have you done?
She wasn't angry at him for being proud. She had seen him face much worse with a quiet strength that left her in awe. But tonight? This was different.
This wasn't a boardroom. This wasn't the street.
This was a room full of people born with silver cutlery in their mouths—powerful, entitled, and cruel when provoked.
And Zane had just poured fuel into their fire.
Across from her, Kelvin let out a slow, dramatic laugh. One hand went to his chest, the other to the edge of the table as he leaned forward, chuckling like someone who had just heard the funniest joke of the year.
"You know," Kelvin said between shallow bursts of laughter, "I actually wanted to pity you."
His eyes fixed coldly on Zane now, all traces of mockery vanishing as his voice deepened.
