Chapter 5

Violette's POV

"Miss Morrison, there's no time—" Emily's voice was choked with tears. "Master William says Isabel's been wronged, and he's demanding Mr. Fraser apologize. He's taken Isabel and chased after Mr. Fraser to his private club!"

My vision went dark. The blood vessels in my head throbbed violently.

William, that brainless fool.

I yanked the steering wheel hard. The red Ferrari screeched across the asphalt as I executed a U-turn and sped toward the Sapphire Club in the city center.

Twenty minutes later, I pushed open the door to the VIP suite on the club's top floor.

A thick stench of blood mingled with alcohol hit me in the face.

The suite was in shambles. An expensive crystal coffee table lay shattered across the floor, liquor pooling on the carpet.

Andre Fraser slumped on the sofa, both hands pressed against his forehead. Bright red blood seeped through his fingers, streaming down to stain his custom-tailored suit and shirt.

William stood before him, gripping the jagged neck of a vodka bottle, still wet with blood.

Isabel cowered behind William, her hands clutching desperately at the hem of his suit jacket. She was crying hysterically, her entire body trembling.

"Call the police!" William's chest heaved violently as he pointed at Andre and unleashed a torrent of curses. "Call them right now and arrest this perverted old bastard! You dare lay your hands on my woman in Oakland? I'll make sure you rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life!"

Several club security guards stood outside the door, exchanging helpless glances. None dared to intervene.

I took a deep breath and strode into the suite.

Emily saw me and rushed over as if I were her last lifeline.

"What the hell happened?" I kept my voice low.

Emily's face was ashen. She quickly briefed me: "After Mr. Fraser left the office, he came here to the club. Master William forced his way in with Miss Isabel. Just now, Miss Isabel picked up a glass from the table and accidentally spilled wine on her own chest. Mr. Fraser, out of courtesy, took a tissue to help her wipe her jacket. Master William walked in right after finishing a phone call and immediately accused Mr. Fraser of sexual harassment."

I shot Isabel a cold glance.

Her white dress was indeed soaked across a large area, the neckline slightly open. But who was Andre Fraser? A man worth hundreds of millions, surrounded by women of every variety—would he really grope a pregnant woman in public?

This was clearly William's persecution complex rearing its ugly head.

"You dare glare at people?" William noticed my entrance but showed no sign of backing down. Instead, he grew even more aggressive. He pulled Isabel closer behind him, glaring viciously at Andre. "You think being a supplier gives you the right to do whatever you want? Let me tell you something—the Grant family doesn't need you as a business partner!"

Andre lowered his hands from his forehead. Half his face was now drenched in blood.

His eyes were cold and menacing as he let out a bitter laugh. "Good. Very good. The heir to the Grant family certainly has quite the audacity."

Hearing Andre's sarcasm, William's fury flared again.

"You old bastard, you still dare to talk back!"

William bellowed and raised his foot to kick Andre.

"Stop!"

I shouted sharply, my heels clicking loudly as I rushed forward. I grabbed William's arm and used every ounce of strength to yank him away.

Then I raised my hand and delivered a hard slap across William's face.

Crack!

The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the silent suite.

William's head snapped to the side. Five clear red fingerprints immediately appeared on his cheek.

The broken bottle slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Violette!" William clutched his face in disbelief, turning to stare at me. "You actually hit me?"

"I hit you because you're an idiot!" I met his gaze without flinching, my voice as cold as ice. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You nearly destroyed the entire Grant Corporation!"

"I destroyed the company?" William looked at me as if I'd told the world's funniest joke. "This old pervert was molesting Isabel right in front of me! What's wrong with teaching him a lesson?"

"Shut up!" I had no patience left for his nonsense. I turned to face Andre, who remained seated on the sofa.

I suppressed all my anger and adopted an impeccably composed expression, bowing slightly.

"Mr. Fraser, I sincerely apologize for this disturbance," I said, my tone earnest and filled with contrition. "This is a failure on the Grant family's part. On behalf of the corporation, I offer you our deepest apologies."

Andre pressed a towel from the table against his wound, regarding me coldly. "Miss Morrison, you don't need to clean up after him. This matter is far from over."

"I understand your anger." I straightened and turned to Emily, issuing instructions in a calm, methodical tone. "Contact St. Mary's Private Hospital under the Morrison family immediately. Have the best chief of surgery prepare to receive Mr. Fraser. Arrange my car and personally escort Mr. Fraser there."

Emily nodded at once. "Yes, I'll arrange it right away."

I looked back at Andre, my voice steady and clear. "Mr. Fraser, all medical expenses, lost wages, and compensation for emotional distress will be covered entirely by me personally. Furthermore, to make amends for this incident, Grant Corporation is willing to reduce our profit margin by three percentage points on next quarter's contract with you."

Three percentage points.

In the vast supply chain for raw materials, this represented an extraordinarily substantial sum.

A muscle in Andre's face twitched slightly.

As a pure businessman, he naturally understood what those three points meant.

But he didn't agree immediately.

He leaned back against the sofa, his gaze moving past me to settle coldly on William.

"Miss Morrison, I see your sincerity," Andre said with a cold laugh. "I don't need your medical fees. Three percentage points is certainly tempting, but my head—Andre Fraser's head—cannot be bought with money."

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"I have only one demand." Andre pointed at William and spoke each word deliberately. "I want him—William Grant—to publish a public apology to me in Oakland's largest newspaper. And right now, immediately, he will bow and admit his mistake to me."

The air in the suite froze instantly.

A public apology in the newspaper would be more unbearable to the perpetually arrogant William than death itself.

Sure enough, before I could say anything, William had already exploded.

"In your dreams!" William lunged forward like an enraged lion, jabbing his finger at Andre's nose as he roared. "You're the one who sexually harassed Isabel! Why should I apologize? You're the one who should be apologizing!"

He whirled around and pointed at me accusingly. "And you, Violette! Have you lost your mind? You're actually covering for a criminal over three percentage points? It's bad enough that you favor everyone else, but now you're helping outsiders bully your own family?"

I watched his tantrum with cold eyes, finding it utterly laughable.