Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle Chapter 131: The Story Everyone Is Watching

The newsroom was already busy when Audrey arrived that morning.

Most of the lights were on, and the familiar low rhythm of keyboards and quiet conversations filled the open office. Large screens mounted along the wall displayed financial news feeds and market charts that changed every few seconds. Soone near the window argued softly about bond yields. A printer humd sowhere behind the editorial desks.

Audrey placed her bag on the back of her chair and set her laptop on the desk before sitting down. Her coffee was still warm when she opened the morning briefing reports. Several new articles had already appeared overnight across financial outlets, and many of them ntioned the sa event.

The Rochefort Anniversary Banquet.

She did not open the articles imdiately. Instead, she skimd the headlines first, watching the different angles various publications had chosen.

So outlets focused on Vincent Rochefort’s appearance. Others discussed the guest list and the number of executives who attended. A few analysts wrote short pieces about what the event suggested regarding the family’s position in the corporate landscape.

None of the coverage interested her very much. Most of it repeated the sa observations.

She took a sip of coffee before finally opening one of the longer pieces from a Montclair financial desk. The writer had compiled a list of several high-profile guests spotted during the evening. Executives, investors, and board mbers from several industries appeared in the article, each na accompanied by speculation about what their presence might an.

Audrey read the list carefully, not because the banquet itself mattered to her, but because the list said sothing about the circles surrounding it.

Influence rarely appeared alone.

Events like that often revealed the shape of the room around the people everyone was watching.

She copied several nas into a blank docunt and continued reading.

A few minutes later, a chair rolled slightly closer beside her desk.

"Still looking at the Rochefort banquet?" a voice asked.

Audrey glanced up. Daniel, one of the senior analysts on the desk, leaned against the edge of her table with a tablet in his hand. His tie was already loosened, which ant he had probably been at the office longer than she had.

"Only briefly," she said. "Everyone else already wrote about the evening itself."

Daniel tilted his head toward the wall screen where a television segnt replayed footage from outside the banquet hall. Several reporters stood in the cold night air as a familiar building entrance ca into view behind them.

"They are going to keep talking about it for a few days," he said. "Any event where half the city’s executives show up in one room usually gets attention."

Audrey nodded once but did not turn toward the screen.

"The coverage focuses on the wrong part," she said.

Daniel gave a quiet laugh. "You are going to say the real story is not the party."

"It never is."

She turned her laptop slightly so he could see the list of nas she had begun collecting.

Daniel glanced down.

"Guests?" he asked.

"People ntioned across different reports," Audrey replied. "Executives, investors, board mbers. So attended the banquet. So did not but were ntioned in connection with the companies present."

Daniel studied the screen for a mont before looking back at her.

"You are mapping the room," he said.

Audrey lifted one shoulder slightly.

"It is more interesting than describing the nu."

Daniel smiled at that and straightened again.

"Well," he said, tapping the edge of the tablet against his palm, "if you find sothing useful in there, the editor will want to see it before lunch."

He moved away a mont later, returning to his own desk.

Audrey watched the wall screen for a few seconds after he left. The broadcast had already shifted to a different segnt discussing international trade forecasts. The banquet footage disappeared.

She turned back to her laptop and continued reading.

More articles appeared as the morning progressed. Audrey skimd them quickly, collecting details without paying attention to the comntary’s tone. Most financial journalists approached the event cautiously, describing it as a visible gathering of corporate leadership without making dramatic claims about its aning.

That approach suited Audrey fine.

What interested her were the connections appearing between the nas.

Several corporations appeared repeatedly in discussions about the sa group of investors and industry partnerships. So had long-standing relationships in infrastructure, energy, or manufacturing sectors. Others were newer alliances that had grown quietly over the past few years.

Audrey opened several corporate profiles in separate tabs.

Logistics. Investnt. Infrastructure.

She moved through them quickly. Efficiently.

Then she saw the next na.

Her hand stopped over the keyboard.

Pemberton Corporation.

She opened the company’s profile page.

The website loaded slowly, revealing the familiar minimalist layout used by most major corporate sites. A photograph of the headquarters building appeared at the top of the screen. Below was a brief summary of the corporation’s activities across several sectors.

Manufacturing. Infrastructure. Capital investnt.

Audrey scrolled down until she reached the leadership section.

The photograph beside the title was professional and restrained.

Gilbert Pemberton.

For a mont, Audrey did not move the cursor. The newsroom continued around her. Phones. Keyboards. Soone laughing. None of it reached her.

Five years.

She had been a junior correspondent then. He had just taken over the company.

Now she was here. He was there. On her screen.

She blinked once. Then scrolled.

The image looked slightly different from how she rembered him, though the change was subtle. His expression appeared more composed now—the quiet confidence of soone accustod to being observed.

Five years was enough ti for a person to grow into a different version of themselves.

Audrey rested her hand lightly against the edge of the keyboard before scrolling again.

The biography section described the transition that had taken place several years earlier, when he beca the corporation’s chief executive. It listed his previous roles and several strategic initiatives launched during his leadership.

She read the information carefully, treating it the sa way she approached every other profile.

Professionally.

That was the word.

She read it professionally.

After a mont, she opened a new docunt beside the research notes she had been compiling earlier.

At the top of the page, she typed a working title.

Corporate Circles After Public Events

The phrase looked unfinished, but it gave her sothing to build on.

Audrey leaned back slightly in her chair and reviewed the list of nas again.

Events like the Rochefort banquet attracted attention because they gathered influential people in one place. Financial journalists often wrote about those gatherings as if the significance ended when the ballroom lights were turned off.

But the more interesting question was always the sa.

Who else moved within the sa circles?

Which companies appeared repeatedly in the sa conversations?

Her notes already contained several nas she planned to examine more closely.

Pemberton Corporation was one of them.

Audrey returned to the leadership page and opened a new email window.

The cursor blinked quietly in the empty ssage field.

She began typing.

The ssage was concise, the way most professional interview requests were. She introduced herself and briefly described the article she was preparing. The request itself was direct and formal, asking whether Gilbert Pemberton might be available for a brief conversation about corporate leadership and industry influence networks.

She read the ssage once without making any edits.

Then she corrected a single phrase in the second paragraph and checked the spelling of his title.

Around her, the newsroom continued moving at its usual pace. Several reporters discussed a currency update near the windows. Daniel had begun arguing with soone across the aisle about a chart that had appeared on the wall screens.

Audrey placed her hands back on the keyboard.

For a mont, she looked at the email address written in the recipient line.

Then she pressed send.

The ssage disappeared.

She stared at the screen.

Email sent.

Audrey leaned back slightly in her chair. She closed the tab.

She picked up her coffee.

It was cold.