Eugene's lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes staring off into nowhere.

Finally, the project leader, his voice hoarse from presenting, paused and looked at him expectantly. "Mr. Ford, what do you think?"

"It's fine," Eugene replied dismissively, rising from his seat without much interest. "Let's go with that."

Without waiting for a reaction from his bewildered employees, Eugene left the room. As soon as he stepped outside, his assistant hurried up to him, looking flustered. "Mr. Ford! There's someone here, demanding to see you."

Eugene paused mid-step. Moments later, he was downstairs, and as expected, he came face to face with Quincy. The tension between them was palpable, even more intense than it had been on the yacht. Both men stood rigid, cold expressions on their faces, as if a fight could break out at any moment.

The receptionist, sensing the hostility, looked on nervously, fearing she might get caught in the middle of whatever was about to unfold.

"Where is Lydia?" Quincy demanded, his voice icy.

house and checking every possible place. The only logical conclusion was that Eugene had taken her. After all, he had

in his pockets, raised an eyebrow, his tone indifferent. "I don't know what you're

Quincy's anger flared.

you are. And don't think I'm

barely restrained fury while Eugene's was sharp with provocation. The receptionist

but even so, he wasn't the type to

said, his voice low and dangerous. "Lydia

fake smile

as if the pretense had been peeled away, revealing something much darker underneath. His eyes turned

Quincy

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