The mere thought of it made his eye twitch. How humiliating it would be to be outranked by some fresh face—and how <i>furious</i> he’d be if that actually happened.


    So, after cheering Xavier on with a few more encouraging messages, Dave finally returned to the meeting. As he walked back into the room, smiling like a man without a care in the world, the people seated at the negotiation table turned to look at him, impatient and clearly annoyed. Only then did Dave remember that he had bolted out iming a "stomach emergency" and had been holed up in his office for over an hour. No wonder they were angry. These weren’t just any people—they were high-level politicians with packed schedules.


    Clearing his throat, Dave tried to slide back into his seat as smoothly as possible, but before he could say a word, one of the negotiators raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "It seems Young Minister Dave just passed a big one. Your stomach must’ve been in really bad shape."


    The sarcasm was sharp, and Dave winced, suddenly remembering the flimsy excuse he’d used to escape. Shifting in his seat awkwardly, he pretended not to hear the remark, feigningposure. Shameless? Maybe a little. But that didn’t mean he didn’t value these people’s time.


    Acknowledging that the dy was entirely his fault, Dave took a more generous stance in the negotiations. Unlike his usual strategy, where he’d corner every advantage and leave the bare minimum for the other party, this time, he conceded a few points. He was more lenient, allowing the other side to walk away with a fair share of benefits.


    In his mind, it was a small gesture ofpensation for making them wait. A rare moment of mercy—brought to you by Xavier, Hera, and a suspiciously convenient "stomach ache."


    And so, as the negotiation wrapped up, the room full of seasoned officials—all older men—turned their gazes toward Dave with amused, crinkled eyes. It was as if they were seeing him in a new light, perhaps even with a tinge of admiration.


    One of them chuckled and said, "Young Minister Dave is truly remarkable—and quite the looker too. It seems you’ve finally learned how to yield to us old folks."


    The others murmured in agreement as the man rubbed his hands together, his gaze settling on Dave a little too intently. For some reason, Dave felt a chill run down his spine.


    Then the man added with a glint in his eye, "With your credentials, your face, and that sharp mind, I bet women are lining up for a chance at you. Why not consider my daughter? Or perhaps my granddaughter?"


    Dave blinked.


    "My granddaughter is a sweet 19," the man went on casually, "and my youngest daughter just turned 25. Both are beautiful. In fact, my daughter once won a beauty pageant—she was Miss Universe, you know. A match like that would certainly boost your public image."


    Dave gave a tight smile, wondering if running off earlier was somehow still the better part of his day.


    "Old man, don’t even think about it," Dave said bluntly, a sharp smile ying on his lips. "My heart, body, and soul already belonged to someone—so don’t bother trying to slip your daughter into my bed."


    His words were clear, direct, and left no room for misunderstanding.


    Dave wasn’t na?ve. He knew exactly what kind of people he was dealing with. These men were seasoned politicians—masters of strategy who wouldn’t hesitate to bend morality if it served their goals. Sacrifices, for them, were just part of the job—whether it was for the good of the people or the advancement of their own agenda.


    And the old man who had spoken? He was one of the oldest foxes in the game—wily, a bit unscrupulous, and famously mischievous in his younger years. Dave wasn’t taking any chances. He figured it was better to shut down any ideas now, clearly and publicly, before they even had a chance to take root.


    "Are you two married?" the old man asked casually, catching Dave mid-sip. He choked on his coffee, coughing as the question hit him squarely in the throat. Seeing Dave’s reaction, the old man grinned widely, clearly amused.


    "No? Just dating, then?" he continued, eyes gleaming. "Well, Young Minister Dave, even married couples get divorced when someone betteres along. So, how much easier would it be to break up a rtionship that isn’t even legally binding?"


    He chuckled heartily, clearly pleased with his own logic, and strolled off with his entourage in tow, his assistants trailing behind him with knowing smirks on their faces.


    Dave’s assistant leaned closer and whispered, "Young Minister, I think your generosity may have just backfired... and now you’vended yourself in a rather sticky situation."


    "Shut up!" Dave snapped, his voice thundering through the room. He was beyond livid. ’<i>That old fossil—was he actually cursing him, hoping Hera would dump him? Over his dead body.’</i>


    <i>’Break up with Hera?</i><i>Not in this lifetime.’</i> He clenched his fists. ’<i>No, I’m going to cling to her so tightly she won’t even have the chance to think of leaving. I’ll bury that old man’s scheme before it ever sees the light of day.’</i>


    Fueled by fury, Dave stormed back into his office and started dialing a series of numbers. If he could give that old fox a good opportunity, he could just as easily take it away. And if needed, crush every n that man dared to hatch.


    A dangerous glint shed in Dave’s eyes as he began plotting his counterattack.


    Off to the side, his assistant shivered slightly and rubbed his temples. ’<i>Here we go again...’</i> He had seen this side of Dave before—the calcting, merciless strategist hidden beneath the polished smile of a Young Minister. It was no wonder someone so young had risen so fast.


    Unfortunately for that old fox, he’d just poked a sleeping tiger—and now it was wide awake.


    While Dave was busy on the phone, scheming against the old fox who had just left, Rafael leaned back in his leather chair, eyes fixed on the screen. He watched Hera and Xavier with a faint smile tugging at his lips. Xavier had done well, pushing back Alexandre Arnault—a man not easily shaken off. Given the chance, Alexandre might’ve wormed his way beside Hera, and once he took root, getting rid of him would be near impossible.


    "What’s got you looking so pleased, Mr. Briley?" asked a voice nearby. It was Lucas Freed’s manager, holding a steaming cup of coffee as he walked in casually.


    "Nothing," Rafael replied, snapping back to reality and ncing down at the file in front of him. "So, what brings you here?"


    "Oh, I just came by to update you. Lucas’s debut songs are finalized, and we’re wrapping up the rest of theunch preparations. I wanted to confirm the budget for the debut—make sure we’re aligned."


    "Lucas Freed?" Rafael frowned, finally looking up with a puzzled expression. "Who’s that?"


    ____


    Thank you so much my dearest, FallinBloom, Cinparo, Shell_Rodriguez, Ashley_Ortiz_7085, DaoistFXzL3Z and Rose_Winn for the Golden Tickets!!!! ( ??3?)(?U?)