Chapter 3

The due diligence report landed on my desk Friday afternoon.

I read the executive summary first, then went through the attachments line by line: the timestamps on the suppliers’ capacity certifications didn’t match the production schedules they’d been advertising publicly; there were gaps in the QC logs, and several documents had signature dates that contradicted each other; the outsourced after-sales plan was written beautifully, but it didn’t specify response time requirements or clearly assign responsibility.

I circled the red-flagged sections, called Legal and Risk Control in, and spread the report across the meeting table.

“From your perspective, can we take this project?” I asked, blunt and direct.

The head of Risk Control spoke first. “At this stage, we don’t recommend it. We run channels—if delivery slips or quality fails, the backlash hits our reputation. Especially with high-ticket items. Customer tolerance is low. Once the returns and exchange experience turns ugly, it’s hard to recover.”

Legal slid another checklist over. “Their IP chain isn’t clear enough. The design-side authorization documents are incomplete, and some of the manufacturing contracts are overly broad. If a dispute happens, we’ll get dragged in—and we’ll have almost no leverage.”

I nodded and closed the report.

It was obvious: V.K. didn’t meet our cooperation standards right now.

“Reject it through process,” I said. “State the reasons clearly. List the risk points. Leave an opening for future re-evaluation.”

Half an hour later, the email draft hit my inbox.

I read it sentence by sentence and clicked Send.

After that, I followed my schedule and went over acquisition terms for a new project with Mark.

We were moving smoothly—clean, efficient—when the front desk line rang through.

“Mr. Gray, Ms. Vera Kane is downstairs. She insists on seeing you—says it’s about the partnership.”

Mark said, “Let her come up. We’re almost done anyway.”

I glanced at the time. He was right. The meeting had gone well—half an hour faster than projected.

I tapped the intercom. “Send her up.”

Mark grinned at me.

I looked back, flat. “Don’t expect a show. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened. Vera stepped out.

Her pace was steady. Her face showed no trace of rushing, as if she belonged here.

Noah wasn’t with her. She came alone—and that made the corridor air tighten instead.

She didn’t wait for an assistant to guide her. She headed straight for my office.

When she walked in and saw Mark, she paused for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t stop. Her voice stayed low, but the anger cut through it cleanly.

“Leon, what is the meaning of this email?”

She held up her phone screen. It was the rejection email.

She’d said it was “about the partnership,” but she wasn’t here to talk terms. She was here to demand a stance.

I closed the door. “Sit. Talk slowly.”

Vera didn’t bother with any lead-in. She sat down and went straight for the throat.

“Why did you reject it? Are you targeting me on purpose?”

I didn’t pick up the word targeting. My gaze settled on her screen.

“It’s written clearly. The project stage doesn’t match. The risk isn’t controllable.”

Her laugh was short—dismissive. “Don’t feed me that. You know I can do it. You rejected it because of Noah, didn’t you? You’re jealous.”

The smile on her lips carried a strange satisfaction—as if she was pleased, and I couldn’t tell what, exactly, she thought she’d won.

Mark cleared his throat. “If you want, I can—”

He said it like he might leave, but he didn’t move an inch. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to watch.

“Don’t,” I said flatly.

Mark stopped.

The second Mark walked out, this would become a “private matter.”

I wasn’t avoiding anyone, and I wasn’t about to give Vera the illusion that we needed to “talk alone.”

The more you avoid, the more people read warmth into it.

Vera’s eyes swept between me and Mark, as if she hadn’t expected this. Her voice cooled further.

“You won’t even speak to me in private?”

I still didn’t answer that.

I opened the attachment from the email and tapped the key points one by one. “Supply-side data inconsistencies. Gaps in QC records. Incomplete after-sales agreement. And your new-release schedule is too aggressive. Our channels can’t absorb your trial-and-error costs.”

When I finished, her lips lifted slightly. “You didn’t used to be like this. You used to find a way.”

She stared at me, like she was hunting for an explanation that would put her back on top. “Stop pretending you’re so cold. It’s because of Noah, isn’t it—because he said a few things in that meeting.”

I kept my patience. “What he said in the meeting was inappropriate. But it’s not the main reason we’re refusing the partnership.”

Her breathing turned heavier—an obvious spike of irritation. She leaned forward, and her tone suddenly shifted into something almost generous.

“You don’t have to act tough. I know you. I know what you’re thinking. Keep the partnership going—I can give you a chance.”

The words dropped, and the room went blank for a full second.

Mark couldn’t help it. Under his breath, he let out a low, “Wow.”

Vera seemed to take that sound as approval. Her chin lifted even higher.

“Alright, alright. I’m not playing anymore. Game’s over. Stop putting on this cold act.”

I looked at her, and finally understood why she hadn’t stopped Noah in that meeting.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand propriety.

She needed someone to sing the lines—to make everyone assume I was “still bothered.”

She thought I’d lower my head first, the way I always had.

I knew Vera too well.

When she said I’ll give you a chance, she meant a truce—she just never said it straight.

What she wanted wasn’t partnership terms.

What she wanted was for me to step back into her rules again, to keep playing the man she could steer with her moods.

“Hold on,” I cut her off.

My voice stayed calm—almost gentle—but every word landed clean and sharp.

“Vera, I don’t need you to give me a chance. If you came for business, I’ve already sent the rejection email. If you came for anything else—sorry. We’re already separated.”

In the reception area, even Mark’s breathing went quieter.

Vera’s expression froze, like she was hearing an answer she’d never learned how to handle.