CHAPTER 277: CHAPTER 277: PLANNED BRUNCH

Victor had one hand around the throat of a collapsing financial network and the other around a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched in two hours.

The boardroom stank of old money, cheap fear, and the final hours of relevance. Two screens blinked with live data; three more displayed movement through Clarke Industries’ final pockets of dissident rot. Ilia Wren’s accounts had already been bled dry. The legal teams were halfway through formal asset seizure, and Robert...

Robert was in the corner, shirt immaculate, sleeves rolled. He was holding a trembling man by the collar, fingers pressed gently to his temple like he was tuning a radio made of nerves.

Andreas.

Still alive. Still talking. Still flinching every time Victor so much as breathed near him.

"... I didn’t know who signed it..." Andreas rasped, voice hoarse. "It was under Jonathan’s branch..."

"Jonathan is dead," Victor said calmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And so is your clearance. What you did know," he continued, stepping forward with slow, predatory movements, "is that the protocols running in Sector 9 required two signatories. Yours was one."

Andreas swallowed hard. "It was operational pressure. It wasn’t my call..."

Victor stopped in front of him.

"I want to be clear," he said, tone glacial. "You’re not being punished for the things Elias remembers. You’re being punished for the things he still doesn’t, because those are the ones you buried deepest."

And then, as if that was a closing line, he turned away.

"Robert," Victor said without looking. "Make sure his pain doesn’t get repetitive. I want creativity."

"Yes, sir."

Victor crossed the room, tugging his gloves off as he approached the console, when the door cracked open and Ashwin stepped in.

Expression tense. Tablet in hand.

Victor knew that look.

"What is it?" he asked without turning fully, fingers already tapping through encrypted files.

Ashwin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he approached with the quiet despair of a man who had run every calculation and still lost.

He placed the tablet on the table beside Victor and opened the press feed.

Front page. Bright. Lavish. Unholy.

ELIAS CLARKE STUNS AT PRIVATE BRUNCH WITH NUMEN PATRIARCH

FUTURE SPOUSE OF VICTOR NUMEN SEEN IN GOLD—INCLUDING HIS WATCH

RUMORS SWIRL: WHERE IS VICTOR NUMEN?

Victor stared.

First at the headlines, then at each picture.

Elias was devastating. Gold watch glinting. Tie perfectly knotted. Sunglasses perched just so. Legs crossed. That little tilt of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile but enough to make someone kneel in a gallery if they thought he was looking at them.

Victor didn’t breathe for a moment.

Ashwin spoke carefully.

"Ego took him to that rooftop restaurant. The one with the reservation list controlled by bloodline and stock ranking. Press was notified in advance. Ruo’s drone is on-site."

Victor blinked.

"Is that my watch?"

Ashwin cleared his throat. "The one you keep in the safe and only wear when threatened by monarchs and billionaires. Yes."

Victor set down his gloves. Then the coffee.

He pushed both screens away and stood fully, spine straightening like a storm was coalescing inside his coat.

Ashwin remained still. "Do you want me to cancel your next meeting?"

"No."

"... The flight?"

"No," Victor said again, very softly. "I want you to reroute it."

Ashwin lifted a brow. "Destination?"

Victor’s gaze returned to the photo, specifically the watch. His watch. On Elias’s wrist.

Then lower.

To the way Elias crossed his legs like a royal and refused to smile for the cameras.

Victor exhaled slowly, the sound almost reverent.

"Find Ego’s table," he said. "Have them seat me next to him."

Ashwin hesitated. "Sir..."

Victor turned, finally, eyes glowing faintly at the edges.

"He wore my watch."

"Yes."

"To brunch."

"Yes."

"With my father."

Ashwin cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

Victor smiled slowly and sharply, as if possessed.

"I’m going to propose again. Just to ruin his afternoon."

—

The brunch was, by most standards, perfection.

High-altitude views. Polished glass and white marble. Waitstaff were trained not to blink unless you told them to. Dishes that tasted like someone had whispered a prayer into a vineyard and then drowned it in saffron reduction.

Elias didn’t taste a single thing.

He sat across from Ego at a sleek corner table draped in imported linen and reputation, legs crossed, fingers resting lightly near the base of a water glass he hadn’t touched. The sunglasses remained on, despite the soft awning above them.

It wasn’t for the sun.

It was to hide the slow, creeping suspicion curdling in the base of his spine.

"...You know," Elias said evenly, "this is going to end badly."

Ego dabbed the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. "For whom?"

"For me," Elias replied. "Victor’s going to weaponize this entire brunch."

"I brought you to a five-star venue, kept you camera-facing, and made sure the lighting hit the cheekbone Victor always stares at," Ego said calmly. "You’re welcome."

"That’s not what I meant."

Elias picked up his fork, stared at the overpriced plate, and then set it back down again. "He’s going to be mad that you took me on our first real public outing while he’s been too busy eradicating conspiracies to take me anywhere but a boardroom or a sealed conference lounge with a biometric lock."

There was a long pause.

Then Ego chuckled. "He’s going to be furious."

Elias raised a brow and leaned back in his sleek and overpriced chair. "You planned for this."

Ego didn’t even pretend otherwise. "Of course. I scheduled the drone, signed off on the lighting angle, and instructed the maître d’ to seat you facing north so the light would hit your cheekbone like divine favor."

Elias sipped his water like it contained moral restraint. "You’re going to die when he finds out."

"Oh, darling," Ego said with a grin. "That’s part of the thrill."

Just then, the air shifted.

Elias didn’t need to turn. He knew.

The waiter’s posture changed. The maître d’ froze mid-bow. Even the sound of champagne being poured across the room suddenly became too careful.

Victor had arrived.