?Chapter 1321:


    Darian pulled his feet back, his gaze dripping with contempt. He smirked and asked, “Davina, right?”


    “Yes, exactly.” Terence nodded over and over.


    They stayed face down, not daring to move without Darian’s say-so.


    “I heard she isn’t in Jasgow right now; leaving Jasgow to track her down would be too much trouble,” Darian said in azy, wistful tone.


    Terence’s eyes flicked around. “She’lle back for sure. If she doesn’t, I’ll figure out a way to lure her.”


    “Forget it. Let’s enjoy time with this woman first.” Darian picked up a photograph from the table, his leer turning almost devotional.


    The woman in the picture was breathtaking, exactly his kind of beauty. If her family fit the right mold, she could be a marriage prospect—and he might spare her life a little longer.


    Darian kept a cigarette between his lips, the photo clutched in his fingers.


    Casually, he pulled out a lighter, set the photo alight, and used that same me to light his cigarette, relishing the sting of irony.


    He drew a deep breath, enjoying it fully. A cigarette lit off a beauty’s photo tasted somehow better to him.


    Terence and Conrad exchanged a look, an awkward flicker of triumph passing between them. It seemed Darian was on board, which made their long servitude feel worth it.


    “About… the funding…” Terence lifted his head a fraction, his smile glued on and fawning.


    “Do you doubt my word?” Darian shot him a cold, piercing nce.


    “No… not at all!” Terence dropped his eyes fast, biting his lip; a sh of ugly ambition flitted across his face.


    Those entitled heirs leaned wholly on their elders’ clout to generate wealth for them. It wasn’t skill—it was being spoon-fed; spoiled brats living off their parents’ legacy.


    One day, when he had built the Murray Group bigger than the Lloyds, he vowed to crush Darian beneath his heel and repay the humiliation tenfold.


    Darian lounged back in his chair, eyes half-lidded withzy arrogance as Terence and Conrad knelt before him. The scent of expensive liquor and cold perfume hung thick in the air. He flicked his foot and kicked them aside like pests.


    “Bring Katy to me in two days,” he said, his tone light but cruel.


    “Okay!” Terence and Conrad agreed.


    “Now scram,” Darian snapped, lips twisting into a wicked grin. “You’re ruining my fun.”


    “Yes, Mr. Lloyd,” Terence and Conrad bowed repeatedly, then practically crawled out of the private club.


    The door shut behind them with a dull thud. Their respectful fa?ade shattered instantly.


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