At that moment Cora paused mid-step, her head turning slightly toward the voice behind her.
Then, slowly, she turned fully to face him William Victor, the eldest son of the Victor family.
She studied him for a moment, her eyes sharp, unreadable. Her posture was upright, queenly, as the wind gently moved through her hair.
"You're forty-five," she said plainly, her voice calm but laced with quiet emphasis.
Immediately William blinked.
"That makes you twenty-two years older than me."
Her words hung in the air like a test, deliberate and unyielding.
At that moment William cleared his throat and quickly composed himself. "Age…" he said, stepping closer with a soft smile, "is just a number, Lady Cora."
Then he stood tall, firm, his hands folded respectfully in front of him.
"What truly matters is devotion, Respect, Loyalty."
His tone grew steadier with each word, passion threading through it. "I will make sure you never have to lift a finger, You won't cook, You won't even speak before I get it done, You won't handle a single burden. Not while I'm here."
He took another step closer.
"I'll do everything for you. Wash your feet. Guard your door. Serve you like the princess you are meant to be."
His voice softened. "And if it ever came to it… I would give my life for you, without hesitation."
He stood silently, waiting, his heart thudding with tension as her eyes remained locked on his, steady and unreadable.
Then Cora finally spoke, her lips curled slightly, and her voice was low.
"Age truly doesn't matter."
Immediately William's eyes lit up the moment Cora said the words Age truly doesn't matter.
Without wasting anymore he stepped forward immediately, his lips parting, eager to seize the moment. "Cora, then does that mean—"
But she raised a single finger, and he stopped.
Cora tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but tinged with sharpness. Her gaze held his for a moment, and then her voice—cold and crystal clear cut through the air.
"What I meant," she said calmly, "is that at your age, William… you should be the one bossing me around. Not following me around like a devoted puppy."
At that moment William blinked, thrown completely off balance.
Cora took a step closer, as she lowered her voice.
"I don't need a man who exists to wash my feet and whisper that he'll protect me. I need a husband, not a sugar boy."
Immediately William's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His face flushed not just from embarrassment, but from a deep sense of being dismissed. His pride, polished for years under the Victor name, began to chip in silence.
However Cora didn't wait for a response.
With grace and finality, she turned and walked away, she didn't look back, Not once.
William remained frozen on the spot, still processing the sting of her words, his arms slowly falling to his sides.
From a few feet away, a loud and uncontrollable laugh erupted.
It was Oliver Victor Cora's age mate, childhood friend, and the second son of the Victor family, He leaned against a nearby pillar, clutching his side as he laughed heartily at his elder brother's expense.
At that moment William's jaw tightened, his pride still smarting as Oliver's laughter echoed in his head.
He straightened his blazer and shot his younger brother a sharp glare. "Say one more word and I'll have you fired from the company."
Oliver blinked, hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm silent."
William adjusted his cufflinks with wounded dignity, then marched toward the mansion. Oliver followed behind, still grinning but wisely keeping his mouth shut.
They both settled in the lavish Freeman living room a space that felt more like a palace hall than a place of rest. Gold accents lined the walls, and the art on display was the kind only passed through family lineage, not auctions.
Cora had gone inside to freshen up, and for the next hour, the brothers waited quietly, both seated but worlds apart in posture William stiff and brooding, Oliver casually sprawled across the velvet couch.
An hour later, Cora returned.
She descended the stairs like time itself slowed for her, dressed in an elegant midnight-blue gown that hugged her frame with regal grace. Her hair was pinned neatly, and her aura had shifted no longer the woman who had just left a broken marriage, but a storm wrapped in silk.
She walked past them, and the air in the room changed. Even William, still slightly bruised in ego, stood as she entered and only sat when she did.
Oliver leaned forward, the grin gone now. "Let's get to business," he said seriously. "We heard the rumors about James, a gold digger. Your ex-husband. We heard you want him out of the celebration tonight?"
William's expression darkened instantly.
He clenched his jaw, the mention of James enough to ignite his anger all over again.
"That bastard," he muttered.
He straightened and looked at Cora. "We've already arranged a unit of elite security, ten of them, Dressed plain, but trained. The moment he sets foot inside that venue, they'll grab him."
At that moment his eyes blazed.
"They'll drag him across the floor in front of the guests. Beat the arrogance out of his skull. Humiliate him publicly. Let him know he's nothing but a speck in the eyes of power."
He slammed his hand lightly on the armrest.
"How dare a commoner play with the tigress !"
William's fingers dug into his palm, his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fist so hard it trembled.
Every breath he took was soaked in rage. His mind raced with violent visions—of dragging James by the collar, of pinning him to the marble floor right here in the mansion, of squeezing the very life out of that coward's throat.
"I swear," William muttered, his teeth grinding, "if I had my way, I'd have my men hunt him down now and bring him here. I'd tear that smug look off his face with my own hands."
He was still fuming, his body tense, when Cora's voice cut through the room like a blade through silence.
"James should be allowed inside the party."
At that moment both William and Oliver stood up at once.
"No!" they said in unison.
William's face was red with fury. "Cora, are you out of your mind?! After everything he did humiliating you, cheating, mocking your family how can you even say that?!"
Oliver, usually the calm and playful one, had an expression Cora had never seen before. There was no smirk. No teasing light in his eyes.
"You can't be serious, Lady Cora," he said, voice firm. "You're not still in love with him, are you?"
Cora blinked, slightly caught off guard, she expected William's rage. That was normal.
But Oliver? He was the peacekeeper, the relaxed one, always smiling in the face of chaos. For him to react this way...something was different. Why the sudden panic?
She took a breath and sat up straighter, her tone calm, resolute, and commanding.
"I'm not doing this out of love," she said softly. "I want him there because James… is my prey."
Her eyes darkened, slow and steady.
"I'll devour him myself, On my terms, not yours, not anyone else's. And until then, no one touches him, no one approaches him."
There was silence.
William sat back first, tension easing from his shoulders.
Then Oliver followed, still watching her, but with respect replacing the panic.
Cora's gaze remained steady as the fire in her voice lingered in the air.
Then William leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression more collected now. "So, tell me," he said, voice calmer but still edged with curiosity, "how do you want the event to go? Obviously… you're not planning to let James win that award anymore, right?"
At that moment Cora's lips curled into a slow, calculating smile.
It was the kind of smile that didn't reach the eyes but promised devastation for anyone in its path.
"I don't want to humiliate James with a rejection," she said coolly. "That's too easy. Too quick. I want him to walk into that room with his chest out, thinking he's the star of the night. I want him to taste glory just a taste before I rip it out of his mouth in front of the entire city."
She leaned back, her tone smoother than silk. "Let him receive the envelope. Let the spotlight fall on him. And then, at the peak of his arrogance… I'll be the one to step out and take it all away."
At that moment William stood abruptly, a proud smile stretching across his face.
He bowed slightly with a hand across his chest, his earlier frustrations forgotten.
"Then I'll be waiting for you at the event, Lady Cora," he said confidently. "And I promise… I won't let you down."
He left the room with purpose.
Oliver stood next, more reserved. He didn't say much just adjusted his blazer and glanced at her.
"I'll see you at the event," he said quietly.
But before he turned to leave, his expression softened.
"Oh, and… Granny Mickey is dying," he added in a low tone. "I got the message this morning. We should go see her after the event."
At that moment Cora paused, the smile fading just a little.
She nodded gently, her voice soft. "Okay."
Oliver left the room with a silent nod.
Moments later, Lan Brown entered, his arms filled with thick files and folders. He placed them carefully on the glass table in front of Cora.
"These are the documents you requested," he said. "Every deal, contract, and support we gave James Lorenzo. But, Lady Cora…" He hesitated, looking at the sheer weight of paperwork. "You won't be able to go through all of these before the event tonight."
He looked up at her. "How much are you planning to pull out from James now?"
Cora folded her arms and asked evenly, "How much have we invested in him… in total?"
Lan didn't blink.
His answer came fast—almost as if he had been carrying the number on his tongue all day.
"One hundred billion dollars."