The atmosphere was dismal for a moment. After a while, Jason recomposed himself and spoke. "Mr. Reed, that's not right. Lina's previous results were mediocre, but training her is now our priority. I believe she will eventually rise to stardom."

"If she's so great, where has she been for the past few years?" August asked pointedly.

Jason's smile froze. The other executives exchanged glances. Gwenda pinched her thigh, stifling laughter.

August continued casually, "It's not that I don't want to endorse your artist, but a third-rate performer would diminish our product's quality. Poor sales would be difficult to explain to shareholders."

August's frankness and disdain were evident. The executives looked embarrassed.

Jason made a final plea. "Mr. Reed, please reconsider, if not for us, then for Mr. Evans."

They used Benson Evans as their trump card.

August laughed. "If it's for my uncle, shouldn't he be the one to ask?"

Jason was speechless. The Reeds' falling out with the Evanses, over Gwenda, was common knowledge. If Benson were willing to approach August, they wouldn't have been sent. Their frustration was palpable.

The meal continued in strained silence.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in another private dining room was equally dismal. Several CEOs, initially hoping to curry favor with Olivier, shifted their attention to Otto.

"Mr. Roux, a toast," one said.

"Ah, alright," Otto replied, resigned to drinking for his boss.

They toasted and chatted, but Olivier remained withdrawn, replaying Gwenda's behavior with another man. His grip tightened on his wine glass; his lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes icy. His chilling presence silenced the CEOs.

Finally, someone asked, "Mr. Roux, what's wrong with Mr. Petit?"

"I don't know," Otto sighed. Something had been wrong with Olivier since they left the car.

They continued their meal unenthusiastically. A waiter refilled their tea. Olivier, who hadn't spoken, noticed someone passing and recognized them. He rose abruptly. "Boss? What are you—"

Before Otto could finish, Olivier left.

Gwenda, unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere, had slipped to the washroom for some air. After freshening up, she prepared to leave. As she exited, she saw a tall man in a suit leaning against the wall, backlit in a way that seemed to gild him. Their eyes met, and Gwenda was shocked. Before she could speak, he pulled her into an embrace. A familiar scent filled her nostrils; she felt his strong heartbeat. He leaned down, his voice low, "Gwenda"