Chapter 811

No man could tolerate such blatant defiance—especially Julian, who had always seethed under Everett's lingering influence.

Julian's lips curled into a frosty smirk as he glared at Rosalind. "You'll regret this tonight."

His fingers clawed at her collar, ready to rip the fabric apart.

But Rosalind was faster.

In one fluid motion, she whipped out the pepper spray concealed at her waist and blasted it directly into Julian's eyes.

He hadn't anticipated her to be armed.

The searing liquid ignited his vision. "Agh!" he roared, staggering back in agony.

Rosalind shoved him away, her voice dripping with contempt. "Did you really think I'd walk into this unprepared? This was bought specifically for you."

The last time Julian had cornered her, only the taxi driver's timely intervention had saved her. Since then, she never left home without her defense.

Julian wiped furiously at his eyes, his gaze burning with rage. "You're testing my limits! Is this your final answer? Think carefully—Whitmore Holdings won't survive without my mercy!"

Rosalind met his fury with glacial calm. "If my parents knew I was sacrificing my happiness just to save Whitmore Holdings, they'd disown me themselves."

Julian barked out a bitter laugh. "Fine! Don't say I didn't warn you. I'm heading straight to Reginald Blackwood. You'll pay for this!"

With a violent slam of the door, he stormed out.

Rosalind watched him leave, her jaw tight. Did he truly believe she'd crumble? Never.

She'd find another way to salvage Whitmore Holdings.

Pulling out her phone, she dialed Alistair's assistant, Oliver. The line connected instantly.

"Ms. Fairchild," Oliver greeted politely.

"Where's Reginald Blackwood right now? I need to see him immediately."

Even if Julian had the advantage of friendship with Reginald, Rosalind refused to surrender—she couldn't let Whitmore Holdings collapse.

Oliver responded swiftly. "Mr. Blackwood is at The Celestial Club for a golf match today."

"Perfect. Send me the address. I'm on my way."

"Right away."

Within minutes, the location buzzed on her screen. Rosalind left the hotel and hailed a cab.

Thirty minutes later, she arrived at the exclusive club, determined to intercept Reginald.

A polished receptionist blocked her path. "Good afternoon. Do you have a reservation?"

Rosalind faltered. "Reservation? I just need to speak with Mr. Blackwood."

The receptionist smiled apologetically. "This is a members-only establishment. Access requires prior arrangements."

Her stomach dropped. "Please, it's urgent. Could you at least inform him I'm here? Rosalind Fairchild of Whitmore Holdings."

The receptionist hesitated. "Mr. Blackwood is currently engaged with his private guests. He's instructed no interruptions."

Rosalind's fingers tightened around her purse. She didn't have Reginald's direct contact.

But time was running out. If Reginald dissolved their partnership today, everything would be over.

"Please," she implored, voice low with desperation. "Just one exception. This concerns a multi-million dollar deal."