22 CHAPTER 22
He trailed off. 1
James could feel it. The pressure on his chest. The weight of unspoken accusations. He hadn’t even opened his mouth yet, but the room already seemed to have decided he was guilty. And worst of all? He had no idea what crime he was being blamed for.
Darnell continued, “A few minutes ago in the same ceremony, three top families families with deep ties to the Victors were suddenly blacklisted. Their businesses would definitely crashed within days. Why? Because they invited Victor to a private gathering… and also invited someone the Victors personally despised. Someone they had warned everyone to stay away from.”
Because even he knew no one in that room believed him anymore.
James’s heart skipped.
At that moment, the room was no longer a place for business it had turned into a silent courtroom, and James was clearly the man on trial.
A cold, sinking feeling that clung to every man sitting at that VIP table. Their minds, once busy calculating profits and partnerships, were now reeling with one terrible realization: They had brought this on themselves.
Bartholomew Ainsley didn’t flinch. “You expect us to believe this is a coincidence? That Victor postpones the signing of the biggest contract in your company’s history on the same day you walk into this meeting and now all of us are blacklisted?”
Still calm, but there was no mistaking the steel behind his voice.
Immediately James looked around and swallowed.
“I… I don’t understand.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Victor and I… we’re not even enemies. We’ve had some talks. Nothing negative happened. I’ve never disrespected them-” 1
He was stunned. “No,” he said quietly. “No… I—I didn’t do anything… At least, not that I
know of.”
James blinked.
He looked from one man to another, Some shifted in their seats, Some crossed their arms. Others tapped their fingers against the table, unable to hide their frustration.
But even as he said it, a strange shadow passed through his own mind.
“Did you offend someone? Someone connected to the Victors? Someone above them?” he asked. “Did you insult someone without knowing who they were? Disregard a message? Ruin a deal? Did you… step on the wrong person’s toes?”
“This isn’t business… this is punishment,” another muttered.
At that moment Someone among them no, not just someone… James had unknowingly dragged all of them into a war they didn’t even realize they had declared. A war against
the Victors.
Bartholomew Ainsley cut in. “Maybe not directly. But maybe you crossed a line without realizing it. Maybe you were seen with someone, said something, or did something that
offended them.”
But then he paused.
James met his eyes. “Yes?”
Bartholomew Ainsley, still seated at the head of the table, suddenly shifted in his chair, his cold, calculating eyes slowly locking onto James. James, who was quiet now, still trying to make sense of what just happened, suddenly felt the weight of that stare.
James didn’t respond immediately.
James frowned. “And what does that have to do with me?”
Bartholomew Ainsley sat forward, eyes fixed coldly on James. “The answer is already
clear,” he said in a low tone. “There’s only one way out of this.”
Everyone turned to him.
“Are you… absolutely sure,” Bartholomew Ainsley said, voice low and even, “that this didn’t happen because of you?”
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22 CHAPTER 22
Then, Bartholomew Ainsley spoke, slowly and with a voice that cut deep.
Their eyes were sharp. Angry, disappointed, Suspicious.
Immediately James shook his head, trying to fight off the rising anxiety. “No… No, I don’t
think so.”
“James.”
The other men remained silent, but their faces were tense.
At that moment, the heavy silence in the room was no longer confusion it was fear.
His thoughts raced. His mind went back to the day before yesterday. That brief moment when he refused to speak with Victor’s assistant over the phone, thinking it was just a routine call. He hadn’t meant it in any offensive way. He was just tired. Busy. Caught up in
his own issues.
“James…” Bartholomew Ainsley repeated, firmer this time.
“James…” he said again, staring directly at him, “what exactly did you do to make the Victors blacklist every single person in this room?”
Another nodded, clenching his jaw. “We dug our own grave.”
At that moment the room went silent again. Every man now turned to look at James. Their fear and confusion were slowly twisting into suspicion. Not because they hated James, but because they were desperate for someone to blame. And James, being the outsider at that moment, the one newly pulled into their circle, suddenly became the most
reasonable explanation.
Then, suddenly, another voice chimed in. It was one of the older businessmen at the far
end of the table Mr. Darnell. He leaned forward, his voice low and thoughtful.
A third man ran his hands down his face in disbelief. “This can’t be happening. Just this
morning we were talking about expanding our reach with that contract. Now we’re all blacklisted. How do we even begin to fix this?”
Because deep down, even he wasn’t entirely sure anymore.
Darnell looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Maybe you’re that person.”
Suspicion.
Change.
James looked up-and froze.
And that was a war no one won, one of the men finally broke the silence, his voice dry and hoarse like sandpaper. “It’s true,” he said slowly. “We… we must’ve triggered this ourselves. Somehow, some way, we stepped on a landmine. And the Victor family doesn’t play games. They… they destroy.”
The truth hit like a slap across the face.
He could feel it in their energy no one was on his side anymore.
A sharp silence spread across the room again, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Real fear.
Bartholomew Ainsley face was stern. But behind that sternness was something more dangerous.
Again James swallowed hard. “Nothing,” he said. “I-I swear, I didn’t do anything. I don’t even understand what’s going on. you called me here for a meeting. How could I…?”
Bartholomew Ainsley’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it grew colder. More piercing.
Could that be it? Did that tiny moment turn into this? as James sat back in his seat, uncertain, the realization began to take shape across the table. Darnell nodded slowly and said, “The Victors don’t always fight with words, they fight with silence. With power. You crossed them… and we’re all paying the price.”
“No… this feels familiar,” he said. “I heard something like this before but didn’t take it seriously.”
Now all eyes turned toward him.
The tension thickened as Bartholomew Ainsley narrowed his eyes. The energy in the room shifted. Even the others sensed something was about to break.
22 CHAPTER 22
Not a single person said anything, but the looks on their faces said it all.
It was Bartholomew Ainsley who broke the silence.
