Corporate Villainy: Trampling Protagonists as a Business Dad

Matthew gulped "He has changed. He has definitely changed." he thought. He had not believed the rumors but now he was absolutely certain.

"If sir could arrange for $3 billion, no $2.5 billion in additional liquid capital... "

The ambition and greed that flared in Matthew's eyes was exactly what Vincent had hoped to see. He liked people with hunger—they were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to achieve their goals. Although his [Soul Reader's Insight] showed Matthew's loyalty at less than eighty percent, his ambition and capabilities made him invaluable for this operation.

"Yes," Matthew breathed, his voice thick with excitement. "Yes, I can definitely make it happen."

After Matthew left, practically vibrating with anticipation, David entered looking haggard and worn.

"Did you not rest yesterday?" Vincent asked, noting the exhaustion etched in every line of David's face.

David shook his head wearily. "Sir, there are increasing problems with our intelligence operations inside Annapurna. We're losing more and more sources."

Vincent recalled Olivier mentioning similar difficulties. "Have you discovered the cause?"

"It appears that numerous mercenaries have joined Annapurna's security through that boy Marcus. They're his former comrades-in-arms, and they're systematically rooting out our people."

Vincent nodded, understanding the situation perfectly. He had a way to deal with this issue.

"Don't worry about it—I'll handle Marcus personally. But David, call Raghu and the other cultivators. Let's go out for drinks after work. It's been too long since we all sat together."

David's tired face brightened with surprise and gratitude. "Yes, sir. I'll inform them immediately."

Vincent had decided it was time to strengthen the bonds with his inner circle. The old Vincent had treated these men as mere employees, believing money was sufficient payment for their loyalty. But Vincent understood that these were the people who would stand between him and death when everything went wrong. Personal connections were just as important as financial incentives.

When David spread word of Vincent's invitation, the bodyguards were both surprised and delighted. It was unprecedented for their usually distant boss to suggest such a personal gathering.

The office door clicked shut behind David, leaving Vincent alone with his thoughts and a mountain of documents requiring his attention. He'd barely settled into reviewing the logistics reports when he heard the soft whisper of silk against silk.

Helena entered without knocking, her emerald dress flowing around her legs as she approached his desk. But instead of her usual playful demeanor, there was something more vulnerable in her expression.

"I missed you," she said simply, moving around the desk to where he sat.

Vincent looked up from his papers, noting the subtle change in her voice. "Did you now?"

Without waiting for permission, Helena settled herself onto his lap, her arms winding around his neck. "The mansion feels empty when you're not there," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Vincent's hands came up automatically to steady her waist as she made herself comfortable. "And how did your public relations work go today?" he asked, though his attention was increasingly divided between the reports and her warm presence.

"Mmm," Helena hummed against his jawline, trailing kisses along the edge of his collar. "The Meridian situation is progressing nicely. I've been feeding carefully crafted stories to three different financial journalists." Another kiss, this one just below his ear. "Their stock prices should drop another two percent by tomorrow morning."

Vincent tried to focus on her words, but Helena's lips were making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on corporate warfare. "Good," he managed, his voice rougher than before.

Helena continued her trail of kisses, her lips now tracing the line of his throat. "I also planted several anonymous tips with key investors," she murmured against his skin. "Suggestions about Meridian's financial instability. The rumor mill is already working overtime."

"Helena," Vincent said, his voice carrying both desire and a gentle warning as his hands tightened on her waist.

She pulled back slightly, meeting his heated gaze with innocent eyes. "I'm giving you a professional briefing," she said with a smile that was anything but professional. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

Vincent's resolve wavered for a moment before he gently but firmly lifted her from his lap, setting her on her feet. "As much as I appreciate your... thorough reporting methods," he said, his voice low and promising, "I need to finish these documents first."

Helena pouted prettily, but Vincent cupped her face in his hands, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "Be patient, Helena. You'll have my full attention tonight, I promise."

Her eyes lit up at his words, the promise in his voice making her pulse quicken. "I'll hold you to that," she said softly, pressing a final kiss to his palm before reluctantly stepping back toward the door.

"I'm counting on it," Vincent replied, watching her leave with hungry eyes before forcing himself to return to his work, knowing the evening ahead would be worth the wait.

The day passed quickly, and as evening shadows began to lengthen, Vincent completed his final tasks. The setting sun painted the office windows gold as he prepared to leave.

David waited outside with the pristine white Phantom Rolls-Royce, while Raghu and the other bodyguards flanked the sleek black Mercedes behind them. Vincent walked toward the car with practiced confidence, allowing David to open the door for him.

"Sir, should we go to the usual place?" David asked as Vincent settled into the luxurious interior.

Vincent paused, momentarily confused, then recalled the previous Vincent's habits. "Ah, yes. The usual place."

The convoy moved smoothly through the city's evening traffic toward an upscale district known for its exclusive establishments. They pulled up to "The Golden Cicada," a high-end bar that catered to the city's elite. The exterior was understated elegance—dark wood, tasteful gold accents, and discrete lighting that suggested wealth without ostentation.

The bar manager, a distinguished man in his fifties, immediately recognized Vincent and hurried forward with a deferential bow.

"Mr. Cornelius! What an honor to have you grace us again. Your usual private room is prepared, sir."

Inside, The Golden Cicada was a study in refined luxury. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over rich mahogany furnishings, while beautiful women in elegant evening wear moved gracefully between tables, their smiles professionally seductive as they attended to wealthy clientele. Several of Vincent's bodyguards visibly gulped at the sight but quickly composed themselves, following their boss with military precision.

They were escorted to a large private room furnished with plush leather seating and a fully stocked bar. The space could easily accommodate twenty people while maintaining an intimate atmosphere.

"Send us your finest drinks and your most charming hostesses for all my men," Vincent instructed as he settled into the central seat.

The manager flashed him a knowing look. "Right away, sir."

After the manager departed, Raghu stepped forward, his usually cheerful demeanor now touched with genuine gratitude.

"Boss, thank you for this. We really appreciate it."

The other bodyguards and David echoed his thanks in unison, their voices carrying sincere appreciation. Vincent's mouth twitched slightly at being called "boss" yet again, but he let it slide.

Soon, a parade of stunning hostesses began entering the room, each carrying premium bottles of aged whiskey, rare cognac, and vintage champagne. The women were breathtaking—a carefully curated selection of beauty and sophistication. They moved with practiced grace, their curves highlighted by form-fitting dresses, their smiles warm and inviting as they began serving drinks and settling beside Vincent's men.

The atmosphere quickly became relaxed and jovial, with conversations flowing as freely as the expensive alcohol. Vincent watched his team unwind, noting how the gesture had already begun strengthening their loyalty to him.

Just as he was beginning to truly enjoy the evening, a surprised voice rang out from beyond the private room's entrance.

"Ah? Oppa, is that you?"