Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife’s Perfect Revenge

At Marston & Co.

The conference room was heavy with silence. Theodore Marston tried to sit tall at the head of the table, but the presence of Henry Laurent and Alaric Lancaster stripped him of that comfort.

Two men who didn't waste words, two men he had never wanted to face together, sat there like they owned everything.

"The articles were harmless," Theodore's lawyer began, a thin smile plastered on his face. "We only highlighted the floral art centerpiece. If the media emphasized Ms. Laurent's name, that is hardly our fault."

Henry chuckled. The sound wasn't warm, it sliced through the air. "Are you teaching me how the media works, Mr. Marston? I've watched headlines built and destroyed before you even stepped into this game."

Alaric leaned back in his chair, unreadable, his voice quiet but unyielding. "Headlines don't write themselves. Someone fed them. Was it you?"

His words lingered longer than necessary. "Because if I bring forth what you did for attention..." His gaze sharpened. "You wouldn't like the consequences."

"Highlighted the floral art?" Mike Wilson, who stood beside Henry, pointed out, "Chairman Marston, in a product launch, you highlight the product, not the decor of the event."

Instead of talking about their launch, they purposefully picked the person's name that could sensationalize them.

Theodore shifted, defensive. "It was exposure. Publicity of Ms. Laurent's art. There is no harm meant."

"Exposure of my daughter's art?" Henry's smile was sharp and cold at his shamelessness. "Or is it publicity for your company using her name?"

Alaric turned slightly, addressing Henry with a casualness that was more dangerous than anger. "Shall we just file a case? Let Giselle handle it?"

Theodore froze. Giselle Lancaster. A corporate and criminal lawyer, the lawyer who never lost. He couldn't afford to risk so much, a small slip-up could reveal his other identity.

"Gentlemen," Theodore forced his voice steady, though his palms were damp, "that won't be necessary. Perhaps we can resolve this directly. How do you propose?"

Henry's lawyer didn't blink when he spoke. "Every post. Every article. Every piece of press that dragged Ms. Laurent's name into your promotion. All of it down." He paused as if letting Theodore feel the pressure, then he pressed it more. "By the end of the day."

Theodore's eyes widened in disbelief. He had paid to get those headlines trending, now, take them off?

"By the end of the day? Do you realize what that costs? To take them down..."

Alaric stood, buttoning his suit jacket with calm finality. "Ezra. Shut this company down in a week."

Theodore's throat went dry. He had just started this branch, going against his board members, so how could he let it close?

His pride broke with the snap of his composure. "...Wait."

He hated to accept that he wasn't as powerful and connected as Henry and Alaric in Velmora. So he had to lose before he lost everything.

"Alright. I'll handle it. The posts will be gone." His voice held the tremors as his hatred toward Aveline and the men just grew.

Henry's smile softened as he watched Alaric. The man wasn't gentle, but his methods delivered fast and sharp results undeniably.

Ezra's tone cracked like a whip. "Time is ticking, Chairman Marston. Get moving."

Alaric's gaze found Theodore one last time as he stepped out. "If I have to step in again, I'll burn your business to the ground."

In the corridor, Alaric instructed Ezra. "Look into his background. Foreign hands can't reach our media so fast. He's tied to someone in Velmora."

The media house knew exactly what Henry was capable of if someone used Laurent's name, much less Aveline's name. Yet they let it slide because they knew it was worth more to take it down.

Unfortunately, Theodore fell for their trap.

Henry didn't move from his seat even after Alaric walked out. He shifted his gaze to his assistant, Mike Wilson, and let out a low chuckle. "That boy is quick with his hands," Henry said, almost as if amused. "I like him."

Mike smiled faintly. "Ms. Laurent chose the right man."

Henry's eyes turned back to Theodore, who was gripping his pen like it might save him. The smile faded from his face. "Theodore Marston, you might be a business legend in your country," Henry's voice was steady, "but you didn't learn a single thing after coming here, did you?"

Mike leaned forward just slightly, his tone casual but sharp as a blade. "You should have learned from Astor's situation, Chairman Marston. That was a warning."

Theodore opened his mouth, but the door burst open. A young man in a dark suit stumbled in, an envelope in his hands. His face drained of color as he glanced nervously between the men in the room.

"What!?" Theodore snapped at the man.

"Chairman Marston..." he stammered, placing the envelope down with both hands. "We've just been served... a lawsuit." He said breathlessly, "One billion."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Theodore snatched the envelope, pulled the letter out, and scanned the pages. His face went pale, and his eyes widened. He slammed the papers against the table. "A billion?"

The man's voice wavered. "It's in the agreement, sir. You signed it. You cannot use Ms. Aveline Laurent's name for your company publicity. Grace and Bloom was allowed."

Henry burst out laughing, standing as his laughter rolled low and deep. "That's my daughter," he said proudly, amusement laced with admiration. He shook his head, still chuckling as he walked out.

Mike Wilson reminded Theodore, "Ms. Laurent sells her art, not her name."

He left, hearing Theodore screaming at the young man, "Why wasn't I aware of this?"

The young man stammered, "We didn't know you would use her name..."

....

In the corridor, Henry reached the elevator just as Alaric stood waiting with Ezra. Mike delivered the news smoothly. "CEO Lancaster, Ms. Laurent's lawyers filed suit. One billion. Against Marston & Co."

Henry's eyes gleamed. He looked at Alaric with quiet pride, then chuckled again. "I should have let her join the family business."

Alaric didn't say much, but the flicker in his eyes gave him away. He was no less impressed by her move, and also wordless, at how quietly she moves.

While Henry and Alaric took one elevator, the assistants took another.

There was a quiet hum as the elevator began the descent. Silence pressed in before Henry spoke without looking at Alaric. "Lina went to a psychiatrist today," Henry said evenly. She had called him to ask who would be good for her consultation.

Alaric's jaw tightened. The words landed heavier than Henry expected. Betrayal wasn't the right word, but it was close. An ache of being kept outside when he thought there were no doors left between them.

She could have told him.

Henry continued calmly, "Give her time. And if it becomes too much for you, send her to me. We'll take care of her."

That was when Alaric turned, his eyes sharper than a broken piece of glass. His calm mask slipped, but his voice stayed low. "I can take care of her."

The elevator chimed, doors opening. Alaric stormed out before Henry could speak.

Henry sighed, looking at Alaric's back. He wasn't sure if he should be proud of Alaric for stepping up or troubled by the way his reaction burned.

He hadn't meant it as doubting Alaric. It was Damien. His shadow still lingered in Aveline's mind, and Henry knew she might keep it from Alaric out of fear of hurting him.

But which man could ever be happy knowing his woman was still plagued by another man's shadow?

He fished out his mobile and typed a message to Alaric. [Springfield Hospital.]

Alaric checked his mobile with a frown and paused in his steps. His frown dissolved as he looked behind. He understood Henry hadn't looked down on him, he was just worried the situation might affect them, their relationship.

He nodded at Henry as an acknowledgment and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He walked fast to the car. The hospital name stayed in his mind like a weight.

He should not have been angry. But the sting was there. She had gone alone. She had not told him.

He pressed his lips together, his jaw tight. Was it that she didn't trust him? Or was it worse, that she didn't want to trouble him?

The thought pressed harder than he liked. He had told her that she wasn't alone in her fight. Hadn't he made it clear?

People stepped aside without him asking as he hurried out..

His anger wasn't at her, never at her. It was in the shadow that still lingered around her, the one man she could never fully shake off.

Damien's name wasn't spoken, but Alaric felt it every time in her hesitation in the past two days.

A bitter sound left his chest, almost a laugh. He wasn't used to feeling this way, restless, unwanted in a space where he thought he belonged.

But even as the ache burned, the decision came easy. If she thought she had to carry it alone, then he would walk with her. Whether she asked or not.

By the time he reached the car, his anger had shifted into something more sensitive. His hands gripped the wheel, eyes fixed ahead.

Springfield Hospital.

He was going straight to her.