He motioned toward the guards stationed at the far end of the ballroom. Well fix that. Malcolm stayed silent, watching the two guards exchange a glance. One began walking his way. The orchestra kept playing a violin solo, trembling under the weight of tension.
Before the guard could reach him, a woman's voice broke the rhythm. Excuse me, said a young Latina server, the same one who had been filming earlier. Her hands shook slightly as she held a tray of empty glasses. He's He's not staff. I saw his name on the guest list.
The table froze. Edward's head snapped toward her. What did you just say? Her courage wavered but didn't die. Read.
His name was on the list. Near the top seven seven herd saw peer in seven feel wild of seven in my fellows in the costs. The other guests shifted in their seats. The blonde muttered probably a typo. Edward sneered.
Honey, I own the list. Malcolm's voice cut through like the first crack of thunder. Then you already know how badly it's about to cost you. Edward frowned. What's that supposed to mean?
Malcolm didn't answer him directly. Instead, he turned to the server. "Thank you," he said, tone soft, but final. "You've done your part." The guard hesitated, unsure now whether to act. Malcolm reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a black card with silver lettering.
He laid it flat on the table in front of Edward. The logo at the corner gleamed under the chandelier. "Read Global Holdings." "Ever heard of it?" he asked quietly. Edward blinked. "Of course.
There are acquisition target were Malcolm corrected past tense. The word hit harder than any shout could. Conversations across nearby tables began to fade. Heads turned. Whispers rippled.
Even the musicians faltered for a beat before recovering. Malcolm looked at the guard still hovering nearby. "You can stay," he said calmly. "You're not the problem tonight." The guard nodded once and stepped back. Edward forced a laugh, desperate to regain control.
Cute trick. You really think anyone believes you own that company? Malcolm's gaze didn't waver. I don't think, he said. I know.
They were happy massable to the races firing on the bro file and half pans of defense for mune. From across the room, his executives, the two men in dark suits, were already approaching, their expressions professional, deliberate. The crowd parted instinctively. The young server's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She whispered under her breath.
"Oh my god." Edward's fianceé shifted in her seat, face paling as she finally connected the name to the deal. "Wait," she whispered. "Malcolm Reed." "That's" Edward swallowed hard. The smile he'd worn all night faltered. Malcolm turned slightly, his voice calm, but absolute.
"Tell me, Edward," he said. What does it feel like to mistake ownership for service? No one answered. The orchestra's final note hung in the air, trembling, unresolved. No one spoke.