"Quick wit won''t change the facts," Presley chuckled, leaning back slightly. "Just because you im the medicine is yours, does that make it true?"


    "That''s a fair point," Mirabe nodded, her expression as serene as ever. "So, the only option is for the person who used my medicine to step up and recreate it right here."


    Conrad was clearly rattled by now. If he had to start from scratch, it would be a total disaster for him. He clenched his fists and red at Mirabe. "You must be kidding. I made that medicine. What gives you the right to demand I make it again? If anyone''s remaking it, it should be you."


    David nced at Conrad with a casual indifference. "Because Mirabe is the Vice President, isn''t that enough?"


    His words sent a ripple through the room.


    Not just Conrad, but the other vice presidents were equally stunned.


    "Vice President? David, when did we get another vice president?" one of the deputy vice presidents asked, astonished.


    And such a young woman at that?


    David had already arranged for the membership documents to be brought over- a printed copy he handed around. "Mirabe might be a nominal vice president, but she still has a voice in the club."


    Presley took the document and skimmed through it. The date showed it was filed a month ago. He looked up at David, raising an eyebrow. "Adding a vice president without any of us knowing? Isn''t it a bit much for you to produce a printout of an electronic document that seems tock authenticity?"


    Moreover, the position of vice president-is it something an outsider can just step into?


    Ridiculous.


    "Far-fetched?" David picked up the medicine bottle from the table. "Who among you could whip up something like this at twenty?"


    Presley tossed the printout back onto the table andughed. "Come on, President, there''s no need to pin Conrad''s work on an outsider and then throw in


    a nominal vice president to throw us off. You think we wouldn''t notice?"


    The other vice presidents exchanged looks, but none jumped into the fray.


    No one wanted to dive into this messy argument.


    David turned to Presley, unfazed by the challenge. "So, Presley, are you saying I, as president, don''t even have the right to invite someone into the club?"


    Presley pressed his lips together. "That''s not what I''m saying. You''re free to invite anyone, but shouldn''t positions like vice president be discussed with us first? Letting someone with no track record take up the role-what message does that send to the other members? Would they ept it?"


    "Oh, about that," David replied coolly, "I''d suggest Presley take a good look at Mirabe''s membership document. Check out the clearly marked position and authority before speaking."


    Presley didn''t bother picking up the document again, just shrugged with a touch of sarcasm. "After all, you''re the president. Whatever you say goes, doesn''t it? Why bother reading it?"


    With that, he effectivelybeled David as a president who bends the rules to suit himself.


    David''s face darkened.


    Meanwhile, as David and Presley exchanged words, Mirabe calmly picked up the medicine box from the table, eventually pulling out the one with Conrad''s name. She opened it, examining the four pills inside, a smirk ying on her lips.