Chapter 487

Reginald Quincy slammed the contract onto the desk. The metal corner screeched against the paper.

"Ethan Sullivan, do you think this charade will fool anyone?"

His bloodshot eyes locked onto the composed young man across from him. His knuckles turned white from gripping the edge.

Outside, the storm raged. Rain lashed against the windows like the Quincy family's three-year struggle under the joint pressure of the Lowells and Sullivans.

Ethan adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate calm. A faint smirk played on his lips. "You misunderstand me, Uncle Reginald."

His gaze sharpened like a blade. "I'm merely doing the math for you."

"The Wu Village project requires at least two billion in liquid assets. The Quincy Group can barely scrape together five hundred million right now, can it?"

Reginald's face paled.

Ethan continued, "Not to mention your construction factories failed formaldehyde inspections last year. You've lost bidding privileges altogether."

He leaned forward suddenly, his voice a venomous whisper. "Are you trying to drag the entire Quincy family down with me?"

A cold sweat broke on Reginald's forehead.

He knew this project was toxic. But the Quincys had run out of options.

"Enough threats!" He shoved a new document across the table. "Sign this, and I'll guarantee your safe departure."

Ethan glanced at the papers and laughed. The sound cut through the tense room.

"Uncle, have you forgotten?" He flicked the document dismissively. "I hold no Sullivan Group shares. This transfer agreement isn't even worth the paper it's printed on."

Reginald's face drained of color.

He'd overlooked one crucial detail—the Sullivan patriarch had never given his son real power.

The rain intensified. Only their labored breaths filled the silence.

Ethan stood abruptly, looking down at the older man. "You kidnapped the wrong person."

He straightened his tie with slow precision. "The one who truly controls Sullivan Group's fate is my recently returned sister."

Reginald's pupils contracted.

The realization struck him like lightning—his meticulously laid trap had targeted the wrong prey from the very beginning.