At that mont, seeing and hearing what just happened, Jas couldn’t even say anything.
He just stood there, completely frozen eyes wide, lips parted, breathing slowly as if he was trying to understand whether what just happened was real. But it was. It was all real.
His ears were ringing with the words "blacklisted by the Victors" and "Global Investnts pulled out." The atmosphere inside the VIP room had changed completely. What was once a warm room filled with powerful n and high expectations was now drowned in dread and disbelief.
At that mont Jas blinked slowly, still processing what was still happening. he looked at the television screen where the breaking news was being broadcast live. the other businessn seated beside him, was boldly displayed. Each of them powerful n in their own right now looked like helpless children. One was still standing, trembling. Another had already slumped back into his chair, his face pale, lips trembling. Another one was gripping the edge of the table as if he was about to faint.
Jas didn’t know whether to sit or stand. He didn’t even know how to breathe at that point. His thoughts were scattered. A minute ago, he was sure the contract was back in his hands. A minute ago, he was full of confidence. Now... now he was speechless. Completely lost.
His throat felt dry as he finally spoke up, voice lower than usual, but filled with disbelief.
"What the hell just happened...?" he muttered, then looked at the others. "You guys called here... for a eting. Just a normal eting. And now this? This...?"
He turned around, almost stumbling backward as he tried to gather his thoughts. "How? How is this even possible?" His voice rose, slightly shaky now. "How can this just happen to all of you at the sa ti? Did... did any of you do sothing wrong? Did any of you offend soone?"
The room remained quiet. Everyone looked confused. No one had an answer. That made Jas feel even worse.
He ran his hand over his face in frustration, trying to breathe properly. "No. No, this can’t be a coincidence. this... this isn’t just sothing random. You don’t just gather for a business eting and then, boom your nas show up on a blacklist in the sa mont."
He looked at each one of them carefully, his eyes narrowing.
At that mont Bartholow Ainsley couldn’t help but say.
"Soone... Soone we offended must have planned this. This is too calculated. Too perfect in timing. Soone’s pulling the strings."
But none of them said anything. They were all still trying to wrap their heads around what had happened.
At that mont Jas lowered his voice, more serious this ti. "I don’t know what’s going on. But whatever this is... it’s not good. Not good at all."
And he ant every single word.
He didn’t actually know what was going on.
But sothing dark had just been set in motion.
At that mont, Bartholow Ainsley slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled not because he was scared, but because he was confused. Deeply confused. And angry.
He stared at the screen for a mont before unlocking it. His heart pounded against his chest, the sound echoing in his ears louder than the murmurs in the room.
"If anybody could pull this off..." he muttered under his breath, "it has to be soone with deep connections."
Then his eyes shifted around the room. The other n—business moguls, respected figures in the industry—were all in various states of panic. So were whispering rapidly on their phones. One was pacing back and forth. Another still sat slumped, his hands clutching his head. They all looked like kings who had suddenly been stripped of their thrones.
imdiately Bartholow Ainsley swallowed hard.
He had been doing business with the Victor family for a very long ti. They were one of the few families he actually respected—powerful, precise, ruthless when needed, but always professional. He had always believed their decisions were calculated, not emotional. So... why now? why blacklist him?why blacklist all of them?
He clenched his jaw, brows furrowing deeper. "Unless..." he began slowly, "this isn’t about alone."
He turned to face the group again. "We all know the Victors, don’t we?" His voice echoed in the silent room. "Most of our biggest deals ca through them or passed through their network. Right?"
A few n nodded slowly, cautiously.
Bartholow Ainsley continued, pacing slightly now, still holding his phone. "So what if... this has nothing to do with one person? What if this is a punishnt? What if... soone crossed a line, and now all of us are paying for it?"
At that mont he stopped walking and stared blankly at the floor, thoughts running wild in his head. "Or maybe... maybe soone frad us. Maybe there’s more going on than we know."
He looked at his phone again but didn’t dial. There was no one to call. No one to ask. Because he didn’t even know what was going on.
At that Jas could feel the weight of a thousand questions pounding against his mind.
Was it Cora? was it the Victors?
Was it soone else entirely?
His chest tightened as the silence in the room grew heavier.
"This doesn’t make sense," he whispered to himself. "None of this makes any damn sense..."
He looked around again. Everyone’s face mirrored his confusion. Their panic. Their helplessness.
Bartholow Ainsley could only say one thing— truth that lingered in every man’s heart at that mont, yet none of them had the courage to admit aloud.
"I don’t know what’s going on but I think the victor are behind this..."
At that mont, everyone in the room slowly began nodding their heads, as if Jas had finally said the one thing they all didn’t want to admit out loud. The silence wasn’t just heavy—it was suffocating. Each of them had power. Wealth. Influence. Yet all of that seed aningless now.
Because the way it happened...
The way the contracts were revoked...The way their nas were dropped publicly without a single chance to defend themselves...
It wasn’t just punishnt. It was a statent. A warning. A thunderclap ant to silence the entire business circle.
And worst of all, it was effective.
So without wasting any more ti,Bartholow Ainsley , the one with the ancient English lineage and deep-rooted influence—snatched his phone from the table, his fingers fumbling slightly as he dialed a number only a few people in the world could claim to have.
The line rang once. Then twice.
Then it picked.
"Hello?" the voice ca through, sharp and professional.
"Jeremy," Bartholow Ainsley said, his tone tight with anxiety. "What’s going on? Talk to , now. What the hell is going on? Did... did the Victors do this?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers