Briony pulled out her phone and turned on the shlight.


    "There''s no signal," she said, ncing over at Carl.


    Carl was already tapping at his own phone, but his efforts were just as futile-no bars, not even a flicker.


    He raised his phone, shining its light at the elevator''s camera. His expression was grim. "The whole car''s lost power."


    It was the height of summer. In a sealed elevator with no electricity, if no one found them soon, they could easily pass out fromck of air in a matter of hours.


    "Carl, this isn''t some random malfunction." Briony met Carl''s eyes, her certainty unwavering. "Someone doesn''t want me at that board meeting."


    Carl knew there was no point in hiding the truth anymore. Briony wouldn''t believe him if he tried.


    He let out a heavy sigh. "Ms. Kensington, I''m sorry. I should''ve anticipated this. I''ve dragged you into it."


    "This isn''t your fault." Briony closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself. "Right now, you should be worrying whether Stewart can handle that board meeting alone."


    Carl paused, taken aback. Then, with a helpless smile, he shook his head. "It''s out of our hands now."


    Briony lowered her gaze, her expression tightening with concern.


    With no way to contact the outside world, all they could do now was wait and hope for the best.


    Meanwhile, in the executive office on the 58th floor, Fred and Stewart-father and son-were facing each other for the first time in twenty-five years. There was no warmth or sentiment, only open hostility.


    Fred was dressed in a sharp ck suit, his hair perfectly in ce-every inch the sessful businessman.


    Whatever he''d been doing for the past twenty-five years, he clearly hadn''t been suffering.


    Stewart sat behind the imposing desk, his gaze cold as he regarded the man who looked so much like him.


    "So, should I call you Fred, or would you prefer Frederic Ellsworth?"


    "Is that how Fiona raised you? No respect for your elders." Fred''s eyes were filled


    with disgust and contempt-the same look he''d once given Fiona.


    Stewart''s lips curled into a frosty smile. "Mr. Wentworth, amazing you remember exist. But the man I called father died years ago. I was seven when I carried his portrait, knelt at his grave, and said may goodbyes. As far as I''m concerned, my father is dead."


    Fred''s face darkened. "You''re only sitting here because of me. If you don''t want to acknowledge me as your father, I couldn''t care less. But I''m taking back everything that belongs to the Wentworth Group!"


    By now, Fred made no attempt to hide his intentions. The hatred in his eyes was unmistakable.


    It was as if the man sitting opposite him wasn''t his son at all, but a mortal enemy.


    Stewart remained unmoved, as if nothing Fred could do or say would ever touch him.


    Fred hated that about him most of all.


    Even when Fred hade begging for help, Stewart had looked at him with that same infuriating indifference.


    "Stewart, when Malvina was dying, I went to you. If you hadn''t stood by and done nothing, do you think I''d be here now, rallying everyone to force you out?"


    Stewart let out a low, bitterugh. "You know better than anyone why Malvina really died."


    "Ungrateful wretch!" Fred bellowed. "Even now, you dare talk back?"


    "What kind of predicament do you think I''m in?" Stewart shot back, his voice icy. "When you faked your


    v


    death in that ne crash and then et


    Wentworth Group''s finances


    copsed overnight, did you really think I wouldn''t figure out why?" Cóntent


    Fred froze.


    He stared at Stewart, hisposure slipping for a brief moment before he masked it with anger. "I have no idea what you''re talking about! The Wentworth Group has always Kad a solid foundation. When I left you were the rightful heir. Stewart, don''t pretend you didn''t benefit from it!"