Chapter 3
The ballroom of the San Antonio Hilton gleamed with gold and crystal, its chandeliers illuminating the space like daylight. Texas's elite mingled in their expensive evening wear, champagne in hand, discussing oil prices and political winds to the elegant strains of classical music.
I stood at the ballroom entrance, wearing what appeared to be a slightly worn dark gray overcoat. This outfit stood out starkly among the sea of Armani and Brioni suits, drawing curious and contemptuous glances.
Perfect. This was exactly the effect I wanted.
"My God, isn't that Cole Vanguard?"
"Look at how he's dressed—clearly he's fallen on hard times. The wealthy heir from three years ago now lives like a vagrant."
The whispered conversations around me made the corner of my mouth curve upward. True predators always disguise themselves as the most harmless creatures before they strike.
I walked toward the champagne table and quickly spotted tonight's primary target. Logan Vanguard wore a custom black tailcoat, holding court in the crowd. Beside him stood Ella, the golden-haired viper dressed in a six-figure Chanel evening gown.
"Cole Vanguard?"
A voice dripping with malice called out. Ella was walking toward me on Logan's arm, wearing the smile of a victor, her eyes filled with condescending contempt.
"My heavens, it really is you." Ella glided up to me with practiced grace. "Three years, and you seem to be... not doing too well?"
Logan stood beside her, deliberately letting his gaze linger on my overcoat. "Cole, my dear brother. Your current situation has me very concerned."
The guests nearby stopped their conversations, focusing their attention on us.
"I'm doing quite well," I maintained my smile. "Though not as well as before, at least I'm still alive."
"Alive?" Ella laughed behind her hand. "Cole, look at yourself—like some street vagrant."
She pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her Chanel purse, slowly extending it toward me under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
"Here, this is a small token from me. It's not much, but at least it's enough for you to buy a decent meal."
The ballroom fell into an eerie silence. Everyone was watching this scene—the heiress to a Texas oil empire, offering money to her former fiancé like charity to a beggar.
This was the ultimate humiliation.
"Thank you, Ella." I reached out and took the bill, even giving her a polite nod. "You're truly too kind."
My calm reaction clearly exceeded everyone's expectations.
"By the way, congratulations to both of you." I raised my champagne glass. "I heard you're having your wedding next month? I wish you a joyful wedding and early prosperity."
"Prosperity?" Logan's face lit up with smugness. "Cole, you're absolutely right. We are going to prosper. Big time."
He deliberately raised his voice: "Just yesterday, I closed a ten-billion-dollar international cooperation project. The Norwegian National Oil Fund approached us directly for joint development in the Gulf of Mexico."
Gasps of amazement rippled through the crowd.
"Wow, ten billion?" I put on an expression of shock. "Logan, you're incredible."
"This is the difference between you and me." Logan's vanity was thoroughly satisfied. "You only question and complain, while I create miracles."
At that moment, Nordstrom approached. My carefully selected proxy, currently dressed in an expensive Italian handmade suit.
"Mr. Logan, delighted to see you again." Nordstrom spoke with a standard Norwegian accent.
"Mr. Nordstrom!" Logan excitedly shook his hand, then introduced me: "This is my brother, Cole Vanguard."
Nordstrom glanced at me, a flash of barely perceptible respect in his eyes before immediately returning to coldness: "Hello, Mr. Cole."
"Regarding the project we discussed yesterday, I'm fully prepared," Logan said to Nordstrom.
"Is that so?" Nordstrom feigned surprise. "Since you're so confident, we can sign the preliminary agreement tonight. However... I need to see proof of your financial capabilities."
Logan's expression flickered slightly but quickly returned to composure: "Of course, no problem."
He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed: "I need five billion in financial verification immediately... What? Insufficient account balance? Then transfer from other projects... Yes, do it now!"
I smirked inwardly. To show off in front of me, Logan was draining Vanguard Group's various funds.
Ten minutes later, Logan's secretary rushed over, handing him a stack of bank documents.
After carefully reviewing them, Nordstrom nodded with satisfaction: "Excellent, Mr. Logan. We can sign the agreement now."
He pulled a thick contract from his briefcase. Every clause in that contract was a lethal trap.
Logan was now drunk on the prospect of enormous profits. He flipped through a few pages hastily, completely missing the deadly details in the fine print.
"No problem, I completely agree." Logan picked up the pen and signed his name under everyone's gaze.
At that moment, I raised my champagne glass: "To Logan's success!"
Logan clinked glasses with me smugly, completely unaware he had just signed his own death warrant.
"Cole, this is the difference in our capabilities." He waved the contract like a trophy. "While you're grateful for a hundred-dollar handout, I've just closed a ten-billion-dollar deal."
As Nordstrom put away the contract, he shot me an extremely subtle glance—the absolute submission of a subordinate to his master.
Half an hour later, in a corner of the ballroom.
I pretended to sample desserts while quietly observing the commotion in the distance. Logan's CFO Jackson hurried over, looking panicked as he pulled Logan into a secluded corner.
I carried my champagne and casually moved near a pillar, carefully eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Mr. Logan, we have serious trouble." Jackson's voice was low but couldn't hide the tremor. "To gather tonight's financial proof, you've moved too much money that shouldn't have been touched. The group's liquid funds are now completely drained."
"What do you mean?" Logan's voice instantly became tense.
"We've borrowed from employee pension funds, government project reserves, and short-term bank loans. 4.7 billion dollars total." Jackson handed over a document. "If we can't return these funds within a month, we'll face massive penalties, criminal charges, and forced liquidation by the banks."
I almost laughed out loud behind the pillar. That idiot Logan had backed himself into a corner just to show off in front of me.
"One month?" Logan's voice shook. "When will the Norwegian project pay back?"
"According to the contract, we won't see initial returns for at least three months. And..." Jackson hesitated. "Sir, did you carefully read that contract? I think some clauses are strange."
"Find me a solution." Logan's tone became irritated. "Whatever it takes, we must fill this hole within a month."
"Sir... I'm afraid there's only one option." Jackson swallowed hard. "Loan sharks."
Perfect.
I quietly left my position behind the pillar, still wearing my harmless smile. Logan had walked step by step into my carefully designed trap, and now he could only sink deeper in desperation.
I returned to the center of the ballroom, raising my glass to Logan and Ella, who were still basking in their signing celebration.
"Congratulations again." I smiled warmly. "I hope everything goes as you wish."
Logan forced composure in responding to my congratulations, but I could see barely perceptible panic in his eyes.
The prey had taken the bait. Now it was time to slowly reel in the net.
And the most spectacular show was just beginning.
