CHAPTER 146: UNBOTHERED

~Bonus Chapter for today:

This Chapter is dedicated to "Miss_J_8877". Thank you so much for the review! I love it!

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Earlier in the evening...

"Why did you call me to meet me here, Clinton?" Violet’s brows arched as she stepped into the private room of the dimly lit Chinese restaurant that Clinton had reserved for the three of them. The lacquered doors slid shut behind her, muting the bustle outside. "You could’ve just come to the house, joined us for dinner."

Clinton rose immediately, pulling out a chair with deliberate politeness. "Because I can’t risk the Chairman overhearing this conversation. Please, Aunt Violet—sit."

Reagan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back, one arm slung over his chair, studying his cousin like a hawk. "So, what’s so urgent but confidential that even my father must be kept in the dark?"

Clinton sat down heavily, exhaling as though the words weighed on him. "I’m being transferred to the new foreign branch."

Reagan scoffed and then smirked. "Congratulations, cousin. That’s a fine opportunity. Why hide it from the Chairman? We could’ve toasted you at home... maybe even thrown you a feast," Reagan said...

...sarcastically.

The jab landed. Clinton’s fists clenched on the table. "Aren’t you going to do anything about it?"

Violet lifted her wine glass, swirling the red liquid lazily before sipping. "Why should we? You’ve been promoted, haven’t you? Isn’t this all part of your plan?" she uttered with sarcasm.

His voice cracked with fury. "No! Don’t twist it! This isn’t a promotion—it’s exile. After everything I’ve sacrificed for the company, they’re shipping me off like dead weight. And why? Because the prodigal son returned and snapped his fingers!"

Reagan leaned forward, his words sharp as a blade. "That’s your fault, Clinton. You failed to hold the throne we handed you. You lacked strength, and the Chairman saw it.

Nick only spoke to him last night, and without hesitation, the old man decided. That means one thing: he isn’t satisfied with you. His true children aren’t really what’s important to him—his babies are his companies. If you had done a damn good job, he wouldn’t have cast you aside so easily. But you didn’t. So tell me—what exactly did you expect?"

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Violet reached out, her pale fingers brushing over Reagan’s clenched hand with a gentle pat, her voice deceptively soft. "Now, now... no need to be cruel to your cousin. He did work hard, poured years of his life into that company. I understand why he’s upset."

But her eyes, calm and unreadable, flickered between the two men—holding secrets neither of them could yet grasp.

"I’m not just upset, I am infuriated!" Clinton slammed his palm against the table, rattling the wine glasses. His voice cracked with desperation, his eyes wild with the frustration he had been bottling for years.

"Tell me what I should do to keep my position in the company. I’ll do anything! Do you hear me? Anything! This is humiliating. After everything I’ve sacrificed, after building the company brick by brick with my blood and sweat, I’m being thrown into some godforsaken non-existent branch—one I’ll have to build from the ground up. And then what? When it finally succeeds, will it be stripped away from me again?" Clinton added.

Reagan tilted his glass, swirling the red liquid lazily, his lips curling into a knowing smile. His voice was calm, almost taunting. "You know you can’t defy the Chairman’s word. Even the board won’t help you. They’re nothing but ornaments—his puppets, every last one of them. Unless..."

Clinton’s chest tightened. He leaned forward, desperate, eyes narrowing. "Unless what?"

Reagan let the question hang, savoring the silence before he leaned back and smirked. "Unless you can get rid of his son."

"Reagan!" Violet’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. Her eyes blazed as she set her glass down with a sharp clink. "Don’t plant such poisonous ideas in your cousin’s head. Clinton would never stoop to something so despicable."

Reagan chuckled darkly, unfazed. "Mother, I never said he should kill Nick. That would be reckless, even for us. In the public’s eyes, Nick is still my brother, isn’t he? If Clinton’s name is tainted, mine would burn with it. We are bound together, we are family after all."

His gaze slid back to Clinton, a predator’s gleam in his eyes. "What I’m saying is this: make him withdraw. Make him want to step down. Nick is only human. And humans have weaknesses. Sometimes, those weaknesses aren’t power, or money, or fame. Sometimes... they’re people."

Reagan’s smirk deepened, the words dripping like venom. "So tell me, cousin... whose absence would make him crumble?"

"Reagan! That’s just the same as getting rid of Nick!" Violet snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through the thick tension in the room.

Reagan leaned back in his chair, unbothered by her fury, and smirked. "No, Mother. It’s not the same. You just have to be creative. You don’t need to stain your hands with blood to destroy someone. There are countless ways to win, if you’re willing to look at the board from a different angle."

Clinton’s brows furrowed, his tone brimming with frustration. "Are you saying I must do something to his sister and mother?"

Reagan dragged a hand down his face and let out a humorless laugh, muttering under his breath, "Stupid..."

"I am not!" Clinton shot back, his pride pricked. "But what you’re suggesting sounds exactly like that!"

Reagan leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mockery. "Cousin, listen. I said be creative. Why would you touch his sister or mother? That’s far too obvious. And if you even try, don’t you think the Chairman would not crush you before you could breathe? He’d return the blow tenfold. No..."

He swirled the wine in his glass. "...there are subtler ways to bring Nicholas Knight to his knees. He may act untouchable, unbothered, like he doesn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. But underneath that armor..." Reagan’s smirk widened. "...he’s a softie. And softness, Clinton, is exploitable."

For a moment, silence pressed down on the table. Then Reagan’s smile faltered, his thoughts turning inward, darker. ’And yet... even knowing this side of him, after all these years, I still can’t predict him. His next move, his mind—it’s like a locked door I can’t pry open.’ His grip tightened around the stem of his glass as his reflection shimmered in the crimson swirl.

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Thank you so much KATHLEEN_COLL for the Golden Ticket!