"An explanation? Why should I give you one?" Elias said coldly, his voice edged with controlled fury. "First — Serena is my wife. Keep your hands off her. If you want a scene, go somewhere else."
He took a step forward, eyes sharp as glass. "Second — if she loves roses, I'll buy them for her. She deserves better than cheap trinkets. I'll have roses flown in from Prague tonight if I must."
Damien's lips twisted in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? One Prague rose costs more than a dollar, and I heard you were begging for a motorbike from Patriarch Leon just yesterday."
He scoffed. "You can't even afford that, yet you have the nerve to act high and mighty here? You're a parasite, Elias. Even if you sold your kidneys, you wouldn't afford one of those roses. Why are you so bold?"
Damien had always enjoyed privilege under Ross Industries — it gave him power. But what infuriated him most was Elias's defiance — the way he'd smashed the bouquet and pulled Serena into the elevator earlier.
It wasn't fear he'd seen in Elias's eyes that day — it was something else. Something dangerous.
"Serena," Damien said suddenly, tone shifting to feigned warmth, "aren't you in need of five million dollars for Ariston Design's capital? I could help you with that."
Serena froze. The words sliced straight through her hesitation.
"You're serious?" she asked softly, almost unwilling to believe him.
"Of course," Damien replied smoothly. "If you have lunch with me this afternoon, the funds will be arranged. Simple as that."
Serena's hand slipped from Elias's grip, and his heart sank. Her company did need that money — desperately.
"Fine," she said after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper. "We'll talk at noon."
"Perfect." Damien's smirk returned as he buttoned his jacket. "We'll discuss the project — and our lunch venue."
"Serena, don't go with him!" Elias burst out, stepping forward. "Dear, listen to me. I'll get you that five million dollars myself!"
"Elias," Serena cut him off coldly. "Don't be unreasonable."
He froze, staring at her. "Do you even know how important this investment is to me?" she continued, voice trembling. "If you were more capable… I wouldn't have to do this."
Damien's laughter echoed softly. "You hear that? Even she's tired of your dreams."
He patted Elias's shoulder mockingly. "If you really want to work, I can help. Ross Industries needs a cleaner. Two hundred dollars a month — I'll add fifty as a sympathy bonus for Serena's sake. Think it over. Opportunities like this don't come twice."
Elias shoved his hand away. "I don't need your pity."
"Ungrateful," Damien sneered. "Enjoy being poor then."
He opened the door of his BMW, the engine purring to life. Serena climbed in without looking back, her face unreadable. Elias took a step forward, desperation leaking through every word.
"Serena! Don't go with him! I have the money!"
But she didn't turn.
Damien leaned out the window, smirking. "Don't embarrass yourself, Elias. You can't even afford a motorbike, and you're talking about five million dollars?" He chuckled darkly. "Face it — you're a nobody. A man who can't even protect his own wife."
The car pulled away, leaving Elias standing at the entrance like a man stripped bare.
He clenched his fists, veins rising against his skin. "A mere project manager from Ross Industries dares to mock me…" he muttered under his breath.
Then, slowly, he pulled out his old phone — the same one that buzzed the night before with a message from the Ross board.
He opened the chat, typed, and pressed send:
"This is Elias Ward. I can help Ross Industries — but I have two conditions."
He took a breath, then added:
Condition One: Ross Industries belongs to me from today onward.
Condition Two: Send the finest roses from Prague to Ariston Design House — in a way every woman there will remember.
He pressed send.
If they refused, he'd find another way.
If they accepted… the world would finally see who Elias Ward really was.