Chapter 808

Alistair took a deep breath before speaking.

"Just last week, Whitmore Holdings launched a joint venture with an international corporation. Everything was progressing smoothly until one of our construction workers collapsed on site. The man suffered a severe leg injury requiring hospitalization."

He ran a hand through his hair. "We immediately dispatched our HR team with compensation offers, but the worker's family refused all contact. Then the situation escalated."

Rosalind's pulse quickened. She hadn't realized Whitmore Holdings was facing such a crisis.

"I made multiple attempts to negotiate," Alistair continued, his voice tight. "We were prepared to meet any demands. But they kept avoiding us. Today, six of the worker's sons ambushed me outside the hospital." His fingers brushed the bandage on his temple. "One of them struck me with a brick."

Victoria's face darkened with anger. "This is outrageous! Our construction sites exceed all safety regulations. Every worker has comprehensive insurance coverage. Instead of discussing compensation, they're deliberately causing trouble and damaging our reputation!" She clenched her fists. "Attacking you? This goes beyond reasonable behavior - we're dealing with criminals."

Alistair nodded grimly. "The entire family has underworld connections. Full-body tattoos, known gang affiliations. This isn't just about an accident."

Rosalind felt ice slide down her spine. The timing was too perfect - during critical negotiations with their international partners. This reeked of sabotage.

"Someone's orchestrating this," she said aloud, voicing her suspicion.

Alistair's jaw tightened. "My thoughts exactly. This is a targeted attack on our family."

Victoria paled. "Who would dare? The Whitmores are one of Metropolia's most prominent families! This level of planning... it's not the work of amateurs."

She was right. Only a handful of power players in the capital could execute such a scheme.

Rosalind already knew the answer. "I need to make a call."

Stepping into the hospital corridor, she dialed a familiar number. The line connected after two rings.

Julian Blackwood's smooth voice filled her ear. "I was wondering when you'd call."

Her grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. Of course it was him.

"Are you behind this?" she demanded, barely containing her fury. "What's your game?"

His chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "It's... complicated. Why don't we discuss this in person?"

"Where?" she snapped.

"The Celestial Hotel. Presidential Suite."

Rosalind's stomach churned. He'd already booked the most expensive room, clearly expecting her to come crawling to him.

"Not happening," she hissed.

"Suit yourself," Julian replied lightly. "But if you don't come, say goodbye to Whitmore Holdings."

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Rosalind's nails dug into her palms. "You bastard! Fine. I'm on my way."

The line went dead. She stared at her reflection in the hospital window - pale-faced, with dark circles under her eyes. Julian Blackwood wanted to play games? Fine. She'd play. But this time, she'd make the rules.