Chapter 424

She toyed with the wooden figurine between her fingers, exhaling softly before murmuring, "Tell me, where has that young man disappeared to?"

Across from her, the carved doll grinned back silently.

The moment Dominic stepped through his front door, he dialed Genevieve’s number. Two attempts. Both went straight to voicemail.

She must be occupied.

He didn’t dare try again.

Restlessness coiled in his chest like a caged beast. He booted up his laptop, fingers drumming against the desk as sales figures loaded. The numbers glared back—another decline.

Returns had slowed, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

His public statement was irreversible now. The only play left? Delay. Stall the refund process. Buy time to salvage what remained of DR Holdings’ reputation while quietly funneling resources into new product development.

Quality could wait. Speed was paramount.

Dominic spun his chair—once, twice, twenty-three times—before his phone finally vibrated. He snatched it up like a drowning man grasping at driftwood.

Genevieve Sinclair.

"Mom—"

"Silence." The hissed command crackled through the receiver, sharp enough to freeze his breath.

Dominic blinked. Then, correcting himself: "Ms. Sinclair."

"Have you forgotten yourself?" Her voice was a blade wrapped in velvet. "Since when do you call me directly? Since when do you ignore protocol?"

He swallowed. No defense came.

Their agreement had been clear: messages first. No familial titles. No risks.

Yet lately, Genevieve had softened—meetings over tea, advice whispered like secrets. He’d mistaken leniency for liberty.

"I… apologize." His grip tightened on the phone. "It won’t happen again."

A pause. Then, the ice in her tone thawed slightly. "Good. Now—explain this unease you mentioned."

Dominic exhaled. "It’s Evelyn. I think she’s biding her time. Waiting for me to slip up before she—"

"Evelyn?" Genevieve’s interruption was razor-edged. "Why is she involved? What did you do?"

The past forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind of damage control—board meetings, press leaks, frantic calls to investors. He’d assumed she knew.

But Genevieve’s sharp inhale told him otherwise.

"You’re trending," he said quietly. "And not in a way that benefits either of us."

A beat of silence. Then, colder than winter:

"Start from the beginning."