Chapter 31

chapter for Harrington International Holdings." Another calculated pause. "I've had the privilege of watching my grand-son Lucas grow into a man of extraordinary capability and vision. And now, it's time for him to take the lead of our Manhattan operations."

He turns slightly in his wheelchair to look at Lucas with unmistakable pride. "Under his direction, I have every confidence that our presence in Manhattan will not only continue but flourish in ways we've yet to imagine."

The applause starts instantly, thunderous and genuine, bouncing off the crystal chandeliers and filling every corner of the massive hall.My eyes fix on Lucas as he steps forward to speak. His tone is calm, voice deep enough to send shivers down my spine. He thanks Howard, mentions future goals for the company, and somehow manages to sound humble yet unapologetically in control. Every word he says only amplifies the applause, until people are practically worshipping him. And why wouldn't they? He's the perfect blend of power and allure, the type of man who can crush you or captivate you without blinking.

The applause thunders through the hall, echoing off the crystal chandeliers overhead.

Lucas steps forward, and I can't tear my eyes away. His deep voice fills the room with a calm authority that sends chills down my spine.

"Thank you, grandfather," he begins, his words measured and precise. "Your trust means everything to me." He pauses, commanding complete attention without effort. "Harrington International has always stood for excellence and innovation. As we move forward, we'll not only maintain that legacy but build upon it."

The crowd hangs on his every word. Even the usually chatty socialites are silent.

"Manhattan has been our home for generations," he continues, "and under my leadership, we'll deepen our roots here while reaching for new horizons."

The applause swells again, even louder than before. I watch as people lean forward, completely entranced. And how could they not be? He stands there radiating power and magnetism, the kind of man who could either destroy you or bewitch you with just a look. The scariest part? I'm pretty sure he knows it too.

From across the crowd, I spot Ian Whitmore. His face has gone ashen. It finally clicks for him that Lucas, the man he dismissed as a "glorified bodyguard," is actually the heir to one of the most formidable empires around.

The realization hits him like a sucker punch. His circle of friends looks equally stunned, stumbling over themselves, unsure how to act now that their ringleader just got turned into a total fool.

Lucas finishes speaking, and as the applause winds down, he surprises everyone by striding right toward Ian. Every person in the vicinity freezes, waiting to see what's about to happen. Ian tries to stand tall, but I see how his posture stiffens. The color drains from his cheeks, and he actually steps back a little.

"Lucas Harrington," Lucas says in a pleasant enough voice, offering a hand as though to greet Ian formally. "We haven't met officially, have we?"

Ian opens his mouth, probably to apologize or stammer some fake pleasantry, but his words stick. He lifts his hand, desperate to salvage some dignity, but before he can shake Lucas's hand, Lucas withdraws it with a half-smile.

"Forgive me," Lucas adds in a low, almost polite tone, "but next time, try not to mistake me for just anyone. I'd hate for there to be any confusion about who's who."

A ripple of laughter rolls through the crowd. It's not loud, but it's enough to confirm that everyone's in on Ian's humiliation. Ian stands there, arm still half-extended, face blazing red. I can practically see the rage and humiliation radiating off him. He's been slapped down in the most public, painful way possible.

I feel a spark of satisfaction. It's about time Ian got a taste of the embarrassment he's tried to dish out to me. While everyone else is caught in the spectacle, I drift off to the side, enjoying a front-row seat to his downfall. But of course, Ian notices me. He whirls around, spots the subtle smile curling my lips, and marches over, fury twisting his expression.

"You," he spits, voice low and shaking. "You knew, didn't you? You knew who he was this whole time, and you let me make a fool of myself?"

I arch a brow. "I'm not responsible for your assumptions."

He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. "You could've told me!"