?Chapter 1187:


    A murmur rippled through the room. Several family members exchanged wary nces, testing one another’s reactions.


    Luca’s eyes sharpened, though his voice stayed calm. “Mr. Howe Briggs, you must be joking. Mr. Briggs and Imunicate weekly. If you’re concerned, you’re free to contact him directly.”


    The jabnded. Howe’s smirk faltered for a split second. Everyone in the room knew the truth—no one could reach William.


    He adjusted his tie and said, “Then I’ll preside over tomorrow’s board meeting. Thepany can’t afford to be without a leader, and it’s inappropriate for an assistant to—”


    “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Luca interrupted smoothly.


    He retrieved a folder from his briefcase and ced it on the table. “Before his departure, Mr. Briggs left explicit instructions. During his absence, all board meetings will be conducted through me.”


    He opened the folder, revealing a document stamped with William’s personal seal—undeniable proof of his authority.


    Howe’s expression darkened. The room stayed silent for a long, heavy beat before he suddenly chuckled, his tone smooth but cold. “Well, it seems William really did find himself a capable right-hand.”


    He stood and straightened his suit jacket. “In that case, I won’t intrude further. Let’s hope William wraps up that mysterious overseas project of his soon.”


    The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound of his polished shoes faded down the hall.


    Only then did Luca exhale—quiet but sharp, as if he’d been holding his breath. Relief flickered across his face, but it was short-lived, reced almost instantly by unease.


    Steven entered momentster, his expression grim. “Howe’s people have started asking questions,” he said tly. “Quietly. They’re digging into William’s whereabouts.”


    Luca rubbed his temples, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “We have to find Mr. Briggs before they do.”


    Howe Briggs—the third son of Dexter Briggs, and William’s uncle—had always been the cautious one. Unlike Amon’s father, he kept his hands clean, never dabbling in illegal trades, never drawing attention. To the public, he was the model of propriety.


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    But everyone in the family knew better.


    If William’s second uncle was the one scheming to destroy him, Howe was the one lurking in the shadows, waiting for the pieces to fall so he could step in and im what was left. And now, with Amon in hiding overseas and his father already behind bars, Howe had lost his buffer.


    William’s disappearance wasn’t a tragedy to him.


    It was an opportunity.


    It was a quiet weekend afternoon when Ste came across the post.


    It was the kind of invitation that would have thrilled Ste a few years ago—a high-profile garden party hosted by some of the biggest names in the tech world. The type of event she and Marc had only ever admired from afar.


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