Chapter 89

Evelyn Roland tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, her red lips parting. "Go."

She retrieved a black velvet box from the drawer and slid it toward Dylan Orlando. "Wear this."

Inside lay a tiny earpiece.

Dylan arched a brow and smoothly inserted the device into his ear before turning toward the garage.

Outside Valdemar Group's headquarters, Theodore Ashcroft had been waiting.

"Mr. Celadon, it's an honor." Theodore bowed respectfully as he guided the way.

Dylan gave a casual nod and strode straight into the conference room.

He lounged lazily on the leather sofa, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his coffee cup.

When the door swung open, Sebastian Valdemar's steps faltered imperceptibly.

He recognized this man.

In the hallway of Le Bar du Ritz, standing intimately close to Evelyn.

Sebastian's eyes darkened as a startling suspicion flashed through his mind.

"I didn't expect Mr. Celadon to be so young." He extended a hand, his tone laced with implication.

Dylan smirked. "Does Mr. Valdemar have prejudices against a designer's age?"

Evelyn's quickened breaths whispered through the earpiece.

Sebastian took his seat with practiced ease. "I invited you here to discuss the design philosophy behind your competition entry."

Every word carried an undercurrent of challenge.

Dylan instinctively tilted his head, listening to Evelyn's crisp instructions. He flawlessly repeated each technical term.

But Sebastian's gaze remained fixed on the side of his head.

"Mr. Orlando seems rather tense?" Sebastian suddenly leaned forward.

Dylan reflexively shifted back.

At that moment, the lights on the entire floor abruptly cut out.

An alarm shrieked through the darkness.

"What's happening?" Theodore's panicked voice echoed from the hallway.

Sebastian stood abruptly, his phone screen illuminating his sharp profile.

A red warning flashed across the display: System breach detected.

Evelyn's fingers flew across her keyboard, a cold smile curling her lips.

On the surveillance feed, she watched Sebastian stride toward the exit.

"Stop him," she murmured into the microphone.

Dylan suddenly blocked the doorway. "Mr. Valdemar, our conversation isn't over."

In the darkness, the two men locked eyes in a silent battle of wills.