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.

only logical conclusion was that Eugene had taken

an eyebrow, his tone indifferent.

Quincy's anger flared.

mean. No one else is obsessed with Lydia the way you are. And don't think I'm unaware that

while Eugene's was sharp with provocation. The receptionist covered her mothe shock, worried about the fallout from this

he wasn't the type to cause a

her," Quincy said, his voice low and dangerous. "Lydia is my

smile on Eugene's

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

eliminating Quincy from

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