As a sharp businessman, keen insight is second nature.

From the moment this meeting started, I had noticed how these people clung to Gideon, laughing at his every word, nodding along like obedient lapdogs. They had also received the largest red envelopes at the start of the year—so full they were nearly bursting.

The company had a clear policy: the annual start-up red envelopes were to be equal for everyone, regardless of rank or position. Yet, these people were different. It was obvious Gideon had manipulated things from behind the scenes.

And Everett, foolish as ever, had actually entrusted him with such an important position.

Even I, the true power behind this company, could hardly stand watching this farce unfold.

"You little bastard, what nonsense are you spewing? We have nothing to do with Gideon!"

"That's right! We just can't stand watching you leech off the company’s resources, so we spoke up!"

"What right do you, a kept man, have to question us?"

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. My sharp glare shut them up for a moment. Then, I smirked.

"I admit I’m indeed younger and more handsome than all of you," I said casually.

Then, my expression turned ice-cold. My voice, sharper than a knife, cut through the air.

"But I don’t appreciate being called a gigolo."

I took a step forward, locking eyes with them.

"I suggest you never use that term again."

"Because if I get angry, the consequences will be severe."

My sudden shift in presence made them stiffen. For a moment, they were speechless, their cowardice laid bare.

Gideon, seeing his lackeys falter, stepped forward with an ugly scowl.

"You little bastard, do you think I’ll let you get away with this?"

"You’re just a worthless bum who got fired. And yet, you dare to act all high and mighty in front of me?"

"Let me make it clear—today, I’m not just kicking you out of this company, I’m going to make you strip down and leave in shame!"

I almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded.

New York’s business world was certainly more entertaining than London’s. At least here, I got to witness a clown show in broad daylight.

"Gideon, do your words represent the company?" I asked, my voice eerily calm.

Gideon waved dismissively. "Of course!"

"Boy, let me spell it out for you. Madam Everett is divorcing you. She never liked you—not from the beginning, not ever."

I smirked, unfazed. "Oh? Is that so?"

I tilted my head slightly. "Did Everett tell you that herself?"

Gideon sneered and nodded. "Obviously! You don’t actually think the chairman of a listed company would ever fall for a loser like you, do you?"

"If it weren’t for the old chairman forcing her, you’d have been kicked out ages ago!"

So my suspicions were correct.

The Whitaker Family thought they were strong enough now to abandon me. That they could just toss me aside after using me to build their empire.

But they had seriously miscalculated.

Did they really think they could betray me and walk away unscathed?

I had single-handedly built the Whitaker Family’s empire in just three years. With a single phone call, I could strip them of everything—reduce them back to nothing.

But where was the fun of ending things so soon?

No, this game was just beginning.

Gideon had no idea what was going through my mind. Seeing me stand there silently, he assumed I was scared. His grin widened, his arrogance grew.

"Hey, Des, everyone’s waiting. Are you going to take off your clothes, or should I have someone do it for you?"

As he spoke, Gideon raised the microphone and bellowed toward the entrance.

"Security! Get in here!"

With his command, more than a dozen security personnel wearing Whitaker Group of Companies badges stormed into the venue. Under Gideon’s direction, they quickly surrounded me, forming a tight perimeter.

Meanwhile, Gideon stepped down from the rostrum—but despite his bravado, he stayed safely behind the security guards, keeping a cautious two-meter distance from me.

"Gideon, are you really trying to force my hand?" I asked, my voice calm but laced with warning. "Don’t forget—I’m still legally married. Aren’t you afraid of how Everett will react when she finds out about this?"

At my words, Gideon threw his head back and laughed.

"I knew you’d hide behind Everett! Lucky for me, I came prepared."

With a smug grin, he pulled out his phone in front of the crowd, dialed a number, and after a few rings, pressed the speaker button.

Everett’s voice came through loud and clear.

"Desmond, I want a divorce."

The entire room fell silent.

I remained expressionless. "Judging from your tone, Everett, you must have found a new ‘buyer,’ haven’t you?"

I could practically hear the excitement in her voice.

"Name your price," she said. "As long as you agree to the divorce, you can have whatever amount you want."

She avoided answering my question directly, but I wasn’t in a rush. This was a slow game—like boiling a frog in warm water.

I let out a soft chuckle. "No need to pay me. I believe the Whitaker Family will collapse soon enough."

Then, my tone turned cold and sharp as a blade.

"I just want to know one thing—who dared to take a woman from me?"

Everett scoffed. "You don’t deserve to know his name."

"But I’ll tell you this—he’s from London. He’s at a level you’ll never reach in your lifetime."

At that, I almost laughed out loud. A man from London? How could I not know who he was? I just found it amusing that someone had the audacity to challenge me.

Before I could respond, Gideon snatched the phone back.

"Alright, alright, even if Everett told you who he was, what could you possibly do?" he sneered. "Be smart, Desmond. Strip off your clothes now and at least walk away with a breakup fee."

"For a kept man like you, isn’t that the best deal you could hope for?"

He kept pushing, taunting me over and over again. But instead of reacting, I held back. Not out of fear—but because I needed to confirm who was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Now that the truth was coming to light, there was no need to tolerate him any longer.

"Enough!" My voice cuts through the room like a whip.

I swept my gaze over the gathered employees, then spoke with quiet authority.

"This meeting is over."

"You all have two choices—leave now while you still can, or stay and be my enemy."

"And let me be clear—I never show mercy to my enemies."

For a brief moment, the room was silent.

Then, laughter erupted.

"You hear that? This pretty boy thinks he can order us around!"

"Desmond, do you think you’re still a big shot?!"

"Didn’t you hear the call? Even Everett has abandoned you. What right do you have to make threats?"

Their mockery filled the air, but I didn’t flinch. I simply exhaled slowly, suppressing the fire in my chest.

And when I spoke next, my voice was dangerously calm.

"I don’t know if you’ve heard the saying—there’s always someone better than you."

I met their amused stares with a calm gaze, my disappointment settling deeper.

"I, Desmond, never rely on women to get things done."

Their laughter echoed through the room, a sharp contrast to the cold realization creeping over me. So, this was the so-called workplace? The same people who once spoke to me with respect now mocked me without hesitation—just because Everett wanted to divorce me.

Was this the price of staying low-key?

For years, I had concealed my true strength, keeping a low profile. Even when I overheard employees gossiping about me, calling me a mere son-in-law or a gigolo, I never bothered to correct them. It was beneath me. But now, I could see how my silence had only emboldened their arrogance.

Gideon, growing impatient with my lack of reaction, scowled.

"Mr. Delaney, I’ll count to three. If you don’t strip, I’ll have them do it for you!"

I slid my hands into my pockets and met his gaze with an amused smirk.

"Alright, alright. I’ve played along long enough. I suppose it’s time to remind you all exactly who I am."

Gideon’s face twisted in rage. With a snarl, he rolled up his sleeves and lunged at me—

But before he could reach me, the doors to the conference room burst open.

Everyone, including Gideon, turned their heads in unison.

A young man, about my age, strode in with an air of arrogance, his every step demanding attention.

"Desmond," he drawled, his voice carrying an unmistakable confidence. "I heard you were asking about me?"