Chapter 312
Dominic's words didn't even make Maxwell flinch.
His fingers tightened slightly around the porcelain teacup. "Feel free to test me. Let's see what you learned during those five years behind bars."
Maxwell's face twisted in fury.
The damning evidence in that folder could send him away for decades.
The fire in his eyes burned uncontrollably.
"You think you're clean, Dominic? T Corporation's skeletons must fill an entire graveyard. Don't pretend you haven't manipulated stocks or nearly crashed A City's economy for profit. You really believe you've fooled everyone? Want me to speculate how you'll end up when I expose T Corporation's crimes?"
Every major corporation had dirty secrets—especially a global empire like T Corporation.
The consequences for Dominic would be catastrophic if those dealings came to light.
Dominic's gaze turned glacial. "By all means, try."
If T Corporation were that easy to dismantle, it wouldn't dominate the international market.
Besides, the astronomical "donations" T Corporation made to certain government agencies each year ensured protection. Maxwell's threats were laughably naive—proof he'd wasted his prison time.
The air between them crackled with tension.
When the teahouse music cut off abruptly, the silence became suffocating.
Dominic rose smoothly, adjusted his coat with precision, and strode toward the exit.
Pausing at the door, his voice carried like steel. "Go ahead. Reveal Evelyn's marriage to you. But I'll release proof that you orchestrated her grandfather's kidnapping to force her into that union. Every charge in that file guarantees a life sentence. This time, you won't walk free. I'll bury you so deep, you'll never see daylight again."
A cold smile touched his lips. "So what if the world knows she was married? I'll still cherish her. Marry her. You know I keep my promises. This is your last warning."
The door slammed shut.
Maxwell exploded.
He shredded the documents violently, then overturned the oak table, stomping it into splinters.
His mind reeled.
Persist? Risk life imprisonment? Or surrender the marriage he'd schemed so hard to obtain?
Meanwhile, Lillian Prescott sipped Darjeeling at Sylvia Kingsley's upscale restaurant.
Sylvia had noticed Evelyn's uncanny resemblance to Genevieve Prescott—Queenie's long-lost daughter. She'd discreetly asked Lillian to investigate.
Sylvia hadn't approached Genevieve directly, unwilling to reopen old wounds.
If she were wrong, the emotional devastation would be catastrophic.
As Genevieve's closest friend, Sylvia understood the agony of that loss better than anyone.
Before adopting Lillian, Genevieve had been a ghost of herself—hollow-eyed, wasting away.
Only adopting Lillian had brought her back from the brink.
If Genevieve's biological child still lived, Sylvia would move heaven and earth to reunite them.
She refilled Lillian's cup.
Lillian murmured thanks, her smile strained.
Sylvia chuckled. "No need for formalities, dear. Your mother and I go back decades. Did you..."
She reminisced about their youth, then casually asked, "Did you mention your sister to Genevieve?"
Lillian's teacup froze mid-air.
A needle of resentment pierced her heart.
So Sylvia was serious about this absurd search.
Why couldn't outsiders stop meddling?
She dug her nails into her thigh, summoning tears. "Aunt Sylvia, Mother wept all night when I asked. She said my sister was stillborn—she never even held her. The guilt over her weak health still haunts her..."
Sylvia's chest ached. She'd made the right choice not to approach Genevieve.
Yet her instincts screamed the child lived.
"Don't mention it again, dear. But... I can't shake this feeling she's out there somewhere." Sylvia pressed her temples. "After all these years, the truth might be far darker than we know."