CHAPTER 158: THE STORM

At Grace & Bloom,

It was the day they were supposed to start working with the vendors for the Cullens’ architecture and start finalizing the designs and miscellaneous details. The office was bursting with energy; there was discussion, laughter, and more.

After signing a document, Aveline smiled at the sight. She didn’t hope for a rally of events. No. She didn’t want a heavy workload or to earn money to enter any list. She wished for events to be steady, just enough to make an amazing portfolio.

Tara sprinted toward her and handed her a small frame. "There you go."

Aveline looked at the picture from their first event. It was a college terrace and banquet with a line about the customer and the date of the event. She walked to the empty wall filled with transparent nails and added the frame to the wall.

"What if the wall fills up in a year?" Tara asked. She liked having all their events on a wall, but it was too empty until it filled out.

"We have more... walls." Her voice trailed off upon hearing commotion outside. She turned around while Tara rushed to the door to take a look.

Aveline stood by the door, hearing the men screaming at the security and forcing their way in. Passersby were taking videos, the vehicles on the road were slowing down, but they didn’t bother to interfere.

Aveline instructed, "Call the cops."

The receptionist, who had rushed there, immediately dialed the police.

Tara stood baffled, watching them. "How could they do this in broad daylight?"

Aveline didn’t answer her. Instead, she was already on the phone. "Red, do you want to take a case of trespassing, forced entry, property damage, threats, and indecency?"

Scarlett’s hurried voice sounded, "I’m on my way. Where should I come?"

She hadn’t joined any firm yet and didn’t want to work for Aveline as it would hurt their relationship. But helping her was always on her bucket list.

"Grace & Bloom," Aveline replied and ended the call.

Immediately, her eyes narrowed when the men neutralized the security guards, and Dahlia’s father, Oscar Astor, walked in like he was some kind of mafia boss.

Aveline instructed her employees, "If they are violent with objects, let them do whatever they want. If they try to hurt anyone, don’t bother following any rules and laws."

Her eyes focused on Nolan. "Grab the electric taser."

Nolan rushed toward her office, where the package containing the electric taser was yet to be unpacked.

Two men in blazers stormed inside, their voices echoing through the office. "Where is Aveline Laurent? Get her out here!"

Everyone watched them, but they didn’t get to respond to those men.

Oscar Astor walked in, his shoulders squared, chin raised, his eyes sweeping the space like he owned it. Nearly fifteen staff members were standing behind Aveline; there was no fear, rather, their judging gazes were triggering.

His gaze halted on Aveline. His hatred spiked the more he looked.

The receptionist politely asked, "How may we help you?" She turned slightly, pointing to the woman in the grey blazer dress standing with her arms loosely crossed. "This is Ms. Laurent."

There was no panic in her tone. Instead, her professional tone was anything but mocking of their behavior.

One of the men turned to the receptionist, spitting, "Is this how you greet guests? No wonder you work for a woman like her."

Silence followed his words. No one moved forward. They didn’t need to. The atmosphere was already ironclad.

Oscar stepped forward, stopping only a few feet from her. "Stop troubling my daughter," he ordered, his voice roaring. "Stop creating these scenes when she has done nothing wrong. Dahlia told the truth, and you know it."

Aveline didn’t answer. Her expression didn’t shift. She might as well have been listening to the weather report.

Alaric’s ignorance still raw in his mind, her actions fueled his anger further. His tone sharpened, his volume rising. "You f**king b*tch, you aren’t just disrespectful," he barked. "You are just a shameless gold-digger, using your face and fake charm to seduce men who don’t know better. Is that how you’ve been surviving all these years?"

Still, nothing from her. No twitch. No flinch. Just a steady, unblinking stare that made his words sound smaller the longer he spoke.

Oscar wasn’t done. He sneered, his voice carrying through the hall like a sharp blade. "Laurent family? You guys are rich, loaded, untouchable, isn’t that right? Henry Laurent spoiling his little princess with anything she wants. It must be nice to live in that shiny little bubble."

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at Aveline. "You left Damien for someone even richer. Alaric Lancaster? What now? Planning another wedding? A fat alimony when that one ends? Your father must be proud of you and his upbringing."

He took another step toward her, his words sharpening with every word he uttered. "I wonder why he divorced you? Maybe it wasn’t him in the wrong, it was you. Maybe Damien had learned your true colors, your slutty habits."

Aveline understood that the more she stayed quiet, the more abusive and malicious he became with his words.

The last few steps closed the gap between them, his tone dripping with contempt. "What’s your price now, Aveline Laurent? Or are you just passing yourself around to whoever can pay the most?"

The staff of Grace and Bloom tensed; male staff stepped in, but Oscar’s men moved faster, yanking them back.

Aveline tensed. She instinctively moved when one of them slammed a shoulder into her employee while another gripped his collar in warning. "Nobody asked you to interfere."

Aveline lifted a hand sharply toward Nolan, her eyes cold but steady. She didn’t want them to get physically violent and hurt each other. She wanted a safe environment for her employees, not a place they would be scared to arrive at every day.

"Stop," she said, her voice firm but calm. "Don’t hurt them."

Well, one of Oscar’s men deliberately looked her in the eye and knocked a ceramic vase to the floor. The crash echoed.

’Crash...’

Another seized the moment, flipping the center table onto its side, glass shattering into glittering, dangerous fragments.

Oscar’s lip curled as he looked at Aveline’s widened eyes. "Cat got your tongue?" he provoked her, stalking closer while she still signaled her staff to step away.

"No need to act high and mighty when you’re nothing but..." his voice lowered into something filthier, "a glorified sl*t for the rich. Selling parties... to sell yourself for a higher price."

He snorted, looking around the office. "Is this a high-class event service, or a high-class brothel?"

His voice lingered longer than necessary.

"Brothel?" The word cut through the air from the door. It was low and dangerous.

Oscar turned, his expression flickering. Nate stood there in casual wear, but a squad of officers was right behind him.

He strode forward without raising his voice, eyes fixed on Oscar. "Funny," he said calmly, "because what I see here looks like an office of civilized people."

He didn’t bother waiting for a retort. "Guess what!?" He flashed a sly smile. "We run a sanctuary for criminals."

His gaze shifted, his chin tilted toward the nearest officer. "Seize them."

The officers quickly seized Oscar’s men, forcing their arms behind their backs and ignoring their curses. Oscar, however, dug in his heels, thrashing against the grip on his arm.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled at Nate, eyes bloodshot. "Another one of her customers? Now serving her, are you? You don’t know who I am, you’ll lose your f**king job for touching me! Don’t you dare lay a hand on me!"

Nate didn’t flinch. He simply turned to Aveline. "Who is he?"

Aveline gave a graceful shrug, her voice smooth and unconcerned. "I don’t know." It wasn’t entirely a lie, she had a guess, but nothing concrete.

The three men were dragged toward the exit, Oscar’s shouts fading into the distance. Nate’s gaze swept the room, lingering on overturned chairs and shattered glass. "Is anyone hurt? Should I call an ambulance?" he asked, his voice edged with concern.

Everyone shook their heads, insisting they were fine, until Aveline suddenly gasped and turned toward one of her male staff members. "Oh my god, your shoulder! Is it dislocated?"

The man blinked in confusion. "Uh..." It had been painful for some time, but he was fine now.

Nolan caught on instantly. "He’s in a lot of pain," he said gravely, pressing on the man’s shoulder.

The man winced dramatically, and the room erupted in laughter. The tension that had been choking the air dissolved like steam.

Aveline exhaled softly, the corner of her lips lifting. She gestured toward the broken glass. "Alright, HR, get this cleaned up. I’m sorry, everyone, back to work."

Yet instead of dispersing, her team lingered for a moment, exchanging glances. They had just seen their boss stand calm and unshaken in the face of an ugly situation, and it impressed them more than any pep talk could.

When the room finally cleared, Aveline turned to Nate. "So... Could I get a license to use tasers now?" Her tone was light, but her eyes said she wasn’t joking. Unlike stun guns, tasers need a license to use.

"Definitely." Nate huffed a short laugh. "Though I have to say... either trouble follows you, or you have a knack for attracting it."

Aveline didn’t argue. Lately, she had started to wonder if this was all just fate playing out, like a storm she was meant to walk straight through.