Chapter 158: Why are you standing in my lobby demanding money now?
"That will not cut it." Mike’s voice didn’t rise, but it landed. Heavy. Final.
His laptop screen cast a harsh red glow across his face, rows of numbers bleeding downward like something already lost.
"It’s not just the customers," he continued, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of his keyboard. "The suppliers are at the front door." A ripple moved through the room.
Not panic this time. Something worse. Reality.
"They’re demanding payment for the silk and wool orders. Since the rumors started that we’re a ’scam,’ they don’t trust our credit anymore." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head once. "They want their money today."
Silence followed. Not the stunned kind. The suffocating kind. Because now it was clear. This wasn’t just a reputational hit.
It was a collapse. A warehouse full of inventory no one trusted. And debts are stacking faster than they can breathe. The room seemed to tilt under the weight of it. At the head of the table, Amara didn’t speak.
Not yet. But her hand. Her hand betrayed her. Her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the table, gripping it as though it were the only thing holding her steady. The tension ran through her arm, sharp and unrelenting, until her knuckles turned white beneath the pressure.
She didn’t look down. Didn’t let anyone see the full fracture. But it was there. Just beneath the surface. And someone noticed. In the back of the room, Raymond watched her.
Not the room. Not the chaos. Her. He saw it all. The stillness that wasn’t calm. The control that was barely holding. The way her eyes, sharp just moments ago, now carried something deeper.
Something heavier.
Pain. And for the first time. It reached him. Not as a distant thought. Not as something he could justify away. But as something real. Something he
had caused. The memory of the night before crept in again, but it didn’t feel the same now. The precision, the confidence, the quiet certainty that he could control the outcome. It faltered.
Because this. This wasn’t controlled. This wasn’t calculated anymore. This was spiraling. He had wanted her here.
Wanted to see her walk through those doors again, strong, unstoppable, exactly as he remembered. But he hadn’t imagined this part.
Hadn’t imagined the way her hand would tremble, so slightly no one else would notice. Hadn’t imagined the way her silence would feel less like power...
...and more like something breaking. His chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, the truth pressed in on him with uncomfortable clarity. He had lit the fire.
But the flames were climbing higher than he ever intended. And now. He didn’t know if she could put it out. Or if she would burn with it.
The air in the conference room grew heavier, thicker, pressing against every breath. No one spoke. No one moved. They were all waiting. For her. For something. Anything.
Amara finally drew in a breath. Small. Controlled. But before the words could leave her. Before she could reclaim the room. Movement cut across the tension. Julian stepped forward.
Not rushed. Not hesitant. Deliberate.
His presence shifted the air instantly, like a blade slicing through fog. Where the room had been drowning in uncertainty, he brought something colder. Sharper. Control of a different kind. He didn’t look at the panic. Didn’t acknowledge the fear.
His gaze remained steady, forward, focused. And when he spoke, his voice carried none of the strain that filled the room.
Only authority. "Let me handle it." It silenced everything. Even the unspoken chaos.
Because whatever came next. Was no longer just about survival. It was about who would take control of the fall... before it became irreversible. "Leave the online situation."
Julian’s voice cut cleanly through the room, firm, controlled, leaving no space for debate.
"I’ll have my legal team track the source of those videos and file injunctions by noon." It sounded decisive. Immediate.
Like a solution. For a brief moment, a few shoulders in the room eased, just slightly, clinging to the idea that something, anything, was being handled.
But Amara didn’t move. Didn’t relax.
She turned her head slowly to look at him, her expression calm... almost too calm. There was no resistance in her eyes, but there was something else. Clarity.
"That’s fine," she said evenly. A pause. "You don’t have to. It will be pointless if we go in that direction." A ripple of confusion passed through the room. Julian’s gaze flickered, just for a second.
But Amara had already turned away. "Janet," she continued, her tone sharpening with quiet authority, "have all the suppliers gathered in the conference room in ten minutes."
A beat. "Every single one of them."
—
Ten minutes later, the energy in the building shifted again. Not frantic this time. Tense. Contained. Like a storm waiting for the exact moment to strike.
When Amara pushed open the conference room doors, the suppliers were already inside, and already arguing. Voices overlapped. Accusations slipped through clenched teeth.
Fear disguised itself as anger. But the moment she walked in. The moment she sat. Silence fell. Not gradually. Not reluctantly. Instantly. She didn’t rush. Didn’t acknowledge the tension.
She simply placed the documents on the table in front of her, smoothing them out with deliberate precision before lifting her gaze. One face.
Then the next. And the next. "I’ve looked at your contracts," Amara began. Her voice was calm.
Level. But there was an edge beneath it now, something unyielding. "According to our agreement, payment is due in three months." Her fingers tapped lightly against the paper. "It has barely been a week since delivery."
A pause. "Why are you standing in my lobby demanding money now?" The question didn’t arise. It pressed. One of the men shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as the weight of her gaze settled on him.
"We heard the rumors, Amara," he said, attempting firmness, but it didn’t quite hold. "People are saying your brand is a scam. We can’t risk..."
"You’re risking your own reputations." She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. The interruption landed sharper than any shout. The man stopped. So did everyone else.
"I don’t have a problem paying you," Amara continued, her tone unchanged, almost conversational now, but that only made it more dangerous. "In fact, I can transfer the full amount right now."