CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21: BLAKE SINCLAIR, YOU’RE FULL OF SURPRISES

Golf course lounge.

Zion Pence glanced at his watch, his temples throbbing — he had been waiting here for seven hours.

A knock sounded, and a man in a suit walked in, wearing a formulaic smile, "President Pence, I’m really sorry, President Vance is currently entertaining important clients, and I’m afraid he won’t have time to see you today."

Zion Pence’s jawline tightened, suppressing his anger: "Please tell President Vance that I am willing to offer a three-point concession."

The man’s smile didn’t budge: "President Vance said today’s schedule is already full."

The lounge door closed again, and Zion Pence’s knuckles turned white from clenching.

This project was originally negotiated by Holly Crowe, but President Vance chose to back out at the last minute before signing, willing to pay the penalty rather than continue the collaboration.

The phone kept vibrating, and Zion Pence irritably hung up on the call from Mia Chapelle.

He turned to dial Holly Crowe’s number, but was met with the cold electronic female voice: "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable, please try again later..."

"Damn it!"

Zion Pence kicked the chair next to him hard.

Dusk fell, and Zion Pence drove to The Elysian.

The doorman recognized his license plate and came running up.

He tossed the car keys, "Same spot."

The elevator went up to the second floor, and Zion Pence ran into a few familiar faces.

Several vice presidents from competing firms, who he had dealt with during previous projects.

"President Pence! What a coincidence!" Vice President Chase greeted him with a beer belly leading the way, "I heard you went to see President Vance today?"

Zion Pence didn’t expect news to travel so fast, he just tugged at the corners of his mouth in response.

Vice President Chase enthusiastically put an arm around his shoulder: "Come on, come on, there’s a gathering today, let’s join in."

The elevator carried them directly to the fourth floor, raising Zion Pence’s eyebrow slightly.

The Elysian is a symbol of prestigious power in Beldon, where money is merely a ticket for entry, and power is king.

"We’re lucky to have Young President Lancaster with us today, and later Blake Sinclair will be coming too." Vice President Chase leaned in to say.

Zion Pence frowned, "Young President Lancaster?"

"Holden Lancaster!" Vice President Chase winked, "The one connected to The Sinclair Family..."

Zion Pence was taken aback.

Holden Lancaster, the Crown Prince of Lancaster Group, that idle and incompetent heir.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, doors opened.

In the center of the room, a young man in a white T-shirt lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, playing on his phone, not even bothering to lift his eyelids when he heard them enter.

"Young President Lancaster!" Vice President Chase immediately plastered on a smile as he approached.

Holden Lancaster waved dismissively without looking up.

Vice President Chase: "This is President Pence from Kestrel Technologies..."

Holden Lancaster scratched his ear, then looked up, his gaze lingering on Zion Pence for half a second, "Alright, everyone sit."

His voice was lazy.

"Young President Lancaster, about President Sinclair..." Vice President Chase rubbed his hands together, hesitating to speak.

Holden Lancaster finally put down his phone, glanced at his watch, casually grabbed the suit jacket off the sofa, and dusted it off with indifference, "Remember to stand behind me later."

As the room door closed, the expressions on the vice presidents’ faces immediately changed.

"Pah! What a piece of work!" Vice President Chase took a swig of liquor, "He’s just clinging to The Sinclair Family’s coattails, huh?"

"Keep your voice down, he’s not to be messed with nowadays."

"President Pence, if you ask me, you’re the one with real skills." Vice President Chase suddenly raised his voice, "You built yourself up from scratch, way stronger than those who rely on their fathers!"

"Exactly!" the others chimed in one after another.

Zion Pence accepted the whiskey passed to him, the alcohol stoking a sense of pride.

He recalled the hardships of building from nothing, while someone like Holden Lancaster could so effortlessly reach the heights he dreamed of.

The alcohol burned his throat, igniting an unyielding resentment in his chest.

Drink after drink, Zion Pence’s vision began to blur.

In a daze, he seemed to hear Holly Crowe’s name.

Someone’s hand patted his shoulder and asked, "President Pence, where’s that capable secretary of yours? She used to wait downstairs when you were drinking, why isn’t she here today?"

Holly Crowe’s name was like a needle piercing Zion Pence’s nerves, waking him instantly as forgotten memories welled up.

It was in the late-night parking lot, Holly silently waiting by the car, it was her supporting him carefully when he was drunk, it was her offering medicine for his stomach after drinking...

Yet she now dared to resign and even wanted to call off the engagement...

Zion Pence downed another glass of liquor.

In the dimly lit room, the darkness in people’s hearts magnified tenfold.

"Although President Pence’s secretary dresses conservatively, her figure...tsk tsk..."

One of the vice presidents pulled out a phone and waved it, "I snapped a picture of her from behind once, let me tell you..."

A few men burst into laughter, egging each other on to see the photo.

"President Pence, how’s your secretary in private, huh?" Vice President Chase made a lewd gesture, his face full of sleaze.

For them, the things happening in the office were unspoken secrets. Once you left home and closed the office door, who cared if you were a secretary or a mistress?

Zion Pence tightened his grip on his glass. Reason told him he should put a stop to this, but with alcohol and pride in the mix, he just pulled a wry smile. "Her? Just like the way you see—dull and boring."

The floodgates were opened, and more lewd banter followed in quick succession.

Listening to their indecent remarks about Holly Crowe, a churn of indescribable emotions welled up in Zion Pence’s stomach.

But beneath the anger, a twisted kind of pleasure surged in his heart.

Holly, see, this is the result of you wanting to leave me.

"What’s so funny? I’d like to hear it too."

A cold male voice cut through the laughter and noise.

The overhead lights suddenly brightened, making everyone squint.

When they reopened their eyes, a man in a suit with a dark pattern stood beside the sofa, the metal pin on his tie glinting coldly.

The man stood with one hand in his pocket, looking down at them condescendingly as if he were observing a group of ants.

"Pre... President Sinclair!" Vice President Chase stammered.

Holden Lancaster jogged in, looking pale: "Sinclair, I..."

Blake Sinclair raised a hand to stop him, his gaze falling on a phone dropped on the sofa.

The man with almond-shaped eyes beside him stepped forward, placed one foot on the glass coffee table, and picked up the phone: "Oh, taking sneaky photos, are we?"

"A bunch of grown men engaging in such disgusting acts?" Shane Yates sneered.

"Second Young Master Irving, misunderstanding! It’s all a misunderstanding!"

Vice President Chase’s legs went weak, sobering up significantly.

Shane Yates swiped the phone a few times on the screen before smashing it hard on the ground, grinding it under his shoe until the screen shattered.

Ice formed in Shane Yates’s almond-shaped eyes: "Have you all no shame?"

"We drank too much!" some of the vice presidents trembled as they explained.

"Drank too much, did you?" Shane Yates pondered, nodding thoughtfully.

He surveyed the room, grabbed an opened bottle of Louis XIV from the table, and took a swig, "Coincidentally, I’m drunk too."

He snapped his fingers, and the manager immediately bowed in.

"These people..." Shane Yates pointed at them one by one, like King of Hell picking soldiers, "throw them all in the police station!"

Vice President Chase fell to his knees: "Second Young Master, we’ve really realized our mistake!"

Fighting like trapped beasts.

Several vice presidents crawled to Blake Sinclair’s feet, "President Sinclair, please be generous..."

Blake Sinclair remained silent throughout.

"President Sinclair..." Zion Pence struggled to stand, but when he met those unfathomable eyes, all defenses caught in his throat.

Security guards filed in.

Even when sitting inside the police car, Zion Pence still couldn’t understand why Shane Yates would explode over someone he hadn’t met.

Inside the suite, Shane Yates looked at Holden with eyes full of clear stupidity, patting his shoulder, sincerely saying: "Young President Lancaster, you still have room to grow."

Penthouse of The Elysian.

Shane Yates leaned against the bar, sipping his drink, tapping the countertop, and a waiter quickly brought him a fresh glass.

He carried it over to where Blake Sinclair was sitting on the sofa, looking at his phone.

"Want a drink?"

Blake Sinclair didn’t lift his head.

Shane Yates smirked, feeling somewhat thwarted, and downed the drink in one gulp, "You really planning to wait until you’re married to drink?"

Blake Sinclair didn’t respond, just continued typing, chatting with someone unknown.

Shane Yates crossed over the coffee table, leaned closer to see Blake Sinclair’s chat history.

"Ulysses Grant?" He raised an eyebrow, "You got the head of Beldon’s Criminal Investigation Team to personally interrogate those drunken fools?"

Blake Sinclair put away his phone.

Shane Yates nudged his shoulder, a mischievous look on his face, "I stood up for you earlier, and you’re still keeping secrets from me? Do you know the secretary they were talking about?"

Blake Sinclair frowned slightly, "Her name is Holly Crowe."

Shane Yates just "oh-ed," his tone twisting in amusement.

The gossip fire within him burned brightly, "When did you two get close? No wonder just now when they said she was dull, you..."

"She dared to climb a two-meter tall Myrica tree when she was five," Blake Sinclair suddenly said.

Shane Yates was stunned.

What Myrica tree? Who’s climbing trees?

He realized slowly, his eyes bright with interest, "Whoa! Blake Sinclair, you’ve got hidden depths!"