Chapter Five:

Viole’s smile cracked first.

Frederick Stephen turned away from her mid-sentence and continued speaking to Veronica in smooth Xynish, his tone warm, almost approving. Around them, the small circle of investors shifted subtly, their attention following the real power in the conversation.

Viole felt it. That shift. That quiet dismissal. Her nails dug into her palm. She had studied for years. She had prepared for nights like this. Yet one foreign sentence from Veronica erased her presence.

Vordon noticed too.

He watched Veronica’s posture, calm, assured, unhurried. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. That made it worse. It meant she didn’t need to.

When Frederick finally laughed and raised his glass toward Veronica, sealing whatever private understanding they had reached, Vordon stepped in.

“What exactly did you promise him?” His voice was even, but there was an edge beneath it.

Veronica met his gaze. “Nothing I can’t deliver.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” There was no defiance in her tone. Just finality. Viole forced herself forward. “Mr. Stephen,” she interrupted lightly, “if you're interested in coastal projects, the Joel Group has long-term infrastructure plans that might suit you better.”

Her words were technically correct. Her smile was polished. But her voice carried strain. Frederick gave her a polite nod, then looked back at Veronica. “Mrs. Joel understands timing,” he said in accented English. “Timing is everything.”

Viole’s face went pale. Timing. The word felt like an accusation. Veronica didn’t react outwardly, but inside, something tightened. In her previous life, she had stood exactly where Viole was standing now, smiling too hard, speaking too carefully, hoping Vordon would look at her the way he looked at another woman.

She would never stand there again.

“I need some air,” Viole murmured suddenly.

No one stopped her. Vordon watched her leave, conflicted for half a second. Then he looked back at Veronica. “You’re enjoying this,” he said quietly. “Enjoying what?” “Watching her struggle.” Veronica tilted her head. “You think I came here for that?” “Didn’t you?”

His words carried suspicion, but beneath it, something else. Unease. He no longer understood her motives. That unsettled him more than jealousy would have.

Veronica held his gaze. “You give me too little credit and too much at the same time.”

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut in.

“I see I missed the performance.”

Tyrus Lane stepped into the circle, hands in his pockets, expression lazy but eyes sharp. Vardon Foster lingered behind him, clearly entertained. Vordon’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Lane.”

Tyrus nodded once. “Mr. Joel.”

Silence stretched between them like a drawn blade. Veronica felt it, the shift in temperature. This wasn’t social tension. This was territorial. Tyrus looked at her. “Mrs. Joel, congratulations on your acquisition.”

“Thank you.”

“Ten billion is bold.” “So I’ve been told.” Their exchange was smooth. Too smooth.

Vordon’s hand brushed lightly against Veronica’s back. Possessive. Subtle. A warning. Tyrus noticed. His lips curved faintly. “Bold decisions often require bold support,” Tyrus added, eyes never leaving Veronica’s face. Vordon’s voice cooled. “My wife doesn’t require outside support.”

Wife.

The word landed heavier than it should have.

Veronica felt it too. Not warmth. Not pride. Weight. Tyrus’s gaze flickered between them, calculating. “Of course. My mistake.” But his tone said he didn’t believe it. Across the hall, Viole stood near a pillar, watching. She saw Vordon’s hand on Veronica’s back. She saw Tyrus looking at Veronica like she was a challenge worth taking. And something dark began to form in her chest. Fear. Not of Veronica. Of being replaced. She had always believed she was inevitable. That once she returned from studying abroad, once she proved herself, Vordon would naturally choose her.

Now she wasn’t sure. Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. If you want to win, stop playing innocent. Viole’s breath caught; another message followed. Meet me in the east corridor. Alone. She hesitated. This was reckless. Dangerous. But losing felt worse. Back in the main hall, the host announced the highlight of the evening, a strategic partnership signing between Joel Group and several foreign investors.

Vordon straightened. This was the real reason he came. He leaned toward Veronica. “Stay close.” She almost laughed. Stay close? For years, she had followed him without being asked. Now he was the one giving instructions, “I’ll be fine,” she said, “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Their eyes locked. For a split second, something unspoken passed between them. Not love. Not hatred.

Recognition.

They were no longer standing on the same ground.

Before either could push further, a commotion erupted near the eastern corridor, voices raised, sharp. Larry rushed past them, pale. Vordon caught his arm. “What happened?” Larry swallowed. “Ms. Stale, there’s an issue.” “What issue?” Larry lowered his voice. “She’s accusing someone of harassment.” Veronica’s heart skipped. Unpredictable, this hadn’t happened before. Vordon moved immediately, cutting through the crowd. Veronica followed, not out of loyalty, but instinct. Public scandal would affect all of them. When they reached the corridor, the scene was ugly.

Viole stood trembling, eyes red, clutching her torn sleeve. In front of her was one of the foreign investors, a middle-aged executive with a furious expression.

“She’s lying!” the man barked. “I barely touched her arm!”

“You pulled me!” Viole shot back, voice breaking. “Don’t deny it!”

Guests were gathering. Phones were already out; this was no minor embarrassment, this was explosive. Vordon stepped between them. “Enough.” His presence silenced the immediate shouting. He looked at Viole. “Explain.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He asked me to drink with him. I refused. He grabbed me.” The investor turned red. “I invited her to discuss business. She misunderstood!” Veronica watched closely. Viole was shaking, but not entirely from fear. There was calculation there, A desperate move. Veronica’s stomach tightened. If this became an international scandal, the Joel Group’s partnership could collapse overnight. Vordon understood that, too. She saw it in his eyes. He was cornered.

Defend Viole publicly, and risk millions. Dismiss her, and look heartless. Tyrus appeared at Veronica’s side, voice low. “This is interesting.”

“Don’t,” she warned, “relax. I’m observing.”

But his eyes gleamed. Chaos benefited him.

Vordon turned to the investor. “We will review the security footage.” The man scoffed. “Do it. I insist.” All eyes shifted to Viole, for a split second, doubt flickered across her face, and Veronica saw it. Security footage.

In her past life, this corridor had blind spots.

But renovations had happened two years earlier; there would be cameras now.

Viole hadn’t considered that. Panic replaced her earlier confidence. “Actually.” Viole’s voice wavered. “Maybe it was a misunderstanding.”

Too late. The investor’s outrage doubled. “Now you change your story?” Whispers exploded around them. Vordon’s expression darkened, and he turned to Viole slowly. “Did he touch you?” Silence. Her pride warred with fear. If she admitted exaggeration, she would lose face. If she insisted, footage might destroy her completely. “I.” Her voice cracked. Veronica stepped forward unexpectedly. “Enough,” she said calmly. Everyone looked at her. She met Vordon’s gaze briefly, then addressed the crowd.

“Emotions are high. Reputations are fragile. Instead of escalating, why don’t we handle this privately?” The investor huffed but nodded stiffly. Vordon studied Veronica’s face. Why was she helping? This could have buried Viole permanently. It would have been convenient. Veronica knew what he was thinking, she didn’t save Viole out of kindness, she saved the Joel name. Because until the divorce was finalized, it was still tied to hers. Security was called anyway, and footage was requested. And as the screen was brought up in a nearby office, the tension thickened, the video loaded, grainy but clear. The investor speaking to Viole. A brief moment where his hand reached toward her elbow. Ambiguous, not forceful, not innocent either. The room held its breath. Viole stared at the screen, horror dawning. She had exaggerated, but he had crossed a line.

This was no longer simple. Vordon’s face turned cold steel.

He looked at the investor. You will apologize.

The man bristled. “For that?”

“For touching a woman without consent.” The words fell heavily. Publicly choosing her. Even now, Viole’s knees almost gave out from relief.

But then Vordon continued.

“And after tonight, Joel Group will reconsider our cooperation.” Shock rippled through the room. Millions at stake, Investors exchanged tense glances. The foreign executive’s expression hardened. “You’ll regret this.” Tyrus smiled faintly. Veronica felt something twist inside her. This wasn’t how the business war started before; this was earlier, messier, and more dangerous.

As the investor stormed out, phone already in hand, Tyrus leaned closer to Veronica.

“Congratulations,” he murmured.

“For what?” “You just witnessed the first crack in Joel Group.” Before she could respond, Vordon turned toward her. His eyes were no longer confused. They were decisive. “We need to talk,” he said, not cold, not distant, personal. And for the first time since her rebirth, Veronica felt something she hadn’t prepared for, uncertainty. Because the way he was looking at her, it wasn’t indifference. It was a realization.

And realization changes everything. Outside, sirens wailed faintly in the distance. Inside, Vordon reached for her hand, not for show this time, for anchoring. “Come with me,” he said quietly. Veronica hesitated.

Across the hall, Tyrus watched. Viole watched. The investors watched.

And as Veronica placed her hand in Vordon’s, choosing, for now, to stand beside him, her phone vibrated in her clutch.

A single message flashed across the screen. From an unknown number. The land you bought? It’s contaminated. Check the soil reports. Her blood ran cold. Ten billion, contaminated, the past she remembered. Had just changed.