Getting into the car, Ralph pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. Glancing sideways, Demis saw a huge number of red ticks—missed calls and unread messages. Demis could have bet they were all about the board meeting that Ralph had skipped without warning anyone.

  Demis had known Ralph for a long time and was used to his actions and decisions not being immediately explained.

  But this time, he couldn’t help being irritated. It was a hot moment: Ralph had all the strength and resources to wring the schemers' neck on the board and assert his authority as chairman. He just couldn’t afford not to be there.

  Demis had worked so hard to place the necessary cards in Ralph's hands. He believed he deserved a front-row seat. The "True Heir" show was supposed to be spectacular.

  But instead, Ralph headed to the Old Port slums to meet with Madre Martinez—an insignificant meeting with an insignificant figure, which, predictably, yielded insignificant results. Moreover, during this meeting, he disconnected his phone, depriving himself and his supporters on the board of the opportunity to coordinate their efforts and suppress the mutiny.

  Demis started the engine but was in no hurry to pull onto the road. He took two or three deep breaths, counted to ten, and only then took hold of the steering wheel. He was too frustrated for safe driving.

  "I can drive," Ralph offered calmly, giving him a sideways glance.

  It was just politeness—Demis saw that Ralph was already immersed in his messages.

  "You had things to do," Demis muttered and put the car in gear.

  Ralph nodded slightly and returned to scrolling through messages, reading one after another.

  Then he closed the messenger and looked at еру call log. Selecting one number, he pressed call.

  "How is it going?" he asked, hearing the connection tone.

  There was a moment's silence on the other end, then a broken voice asked, "Mr. Denhof, where have you been? Why haven't you—"

  "I was in an important meeting," Ralph interrupted. "It just ended. What's up?"

  His voice sounded casual, but his short question acted as a floodgate—a stream of hurried, agitated speech poured out in response.

  Demis caught only fragments. The voice thrashed on the line like a caged bird—the man was either panicking or furious. Or perhaps both.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  All Demis could understand was that the meeting, which should have already ended, was dragging on.

  Ralph listened without interrupting. And even when the voice on the other end of the line paused, as if expecting some kind of reaction from Ralph, he remained mostly silent.

  Soon, the flow of speech slowed somewhat. And then dried up altogether. Ralph's restrained, almost indifferent reactions either reassured the man or, on the contrary, drove him to despair.

  "Let me know when it's over," he said and hung up.

  For a moment, silence reigned in the car. Ralph stared blankly at the road. Demis kept glancing at him sideways.

  Whoever the man Ralph was speaking to, Demis understood and shared his emotions completely. For the first time since Ralph set foot on Nineveh's stingy land, he had the opportunity to take control of the holding company. Suddenly, another word occurred to Demis: revenge.

  And for the first time, it felt within reach.

  Demis still seethed with indignation when he recalled their first meeting with the Dengof Corp board. Ralph had received orders from his father to report to the office immediately as soon as he stepped off the plane. And he went straight there, exhausted from the long trip, unshaven, still stuck in the same crumpled clothes. Upon arrival, he was ushered straight into the conference room. The meeting had begun about half an hour earlier, and Ralph appeared before the board members, directors, and shareholders like a late schoolboy.

  As soon as he entered the room, his sister, who had been sitting in the chairman’s seat until then, immediately stood up and gave it to him. Even this gesture—seemingly delicate and polite—felt like a sophisticated mockery.

  Most of the people in the conference room were clearly enjoying the performance.

  The mere memory filled Demis with a sense of dull rage.

  Today, Ralph could have delivered a devastating counterattack. But he avoided the confrontation. For some inexplicable reason.

  He couldn't help himself and asked,

  "Were you really at an important meeting?"

  Ralph looked up from the road at Demis with slight surprise, as if he didn't immediately understand what he was talking about.

  "Mrs. Martinez?" he asked. “Oh, sure.”

  Demis gripped the steering wheel tighter. He didn't know whether to be angry or amused.

  Ralph turned his head and stared at him for a moment. Then suddenly he asked:

  "Do you know how much my suit costs?"

  Demis glanced at Ralph's suit and shook his head.

  "I don't know either," Ralph said with a sigh. "But Mrs. Martinez does."

  Demis was silent for a moment. He didn't pay any attention to Martinez's words—not about the cost of the suit or anything else.

  Then he chuckled.

  "What, you really don't know?"

  “Nope.”

  Ralph never bothered to pay attention to the prices of small purchases—he only kept track of the totals in his monthly reports.

  "My mother always did that for me."

  Demis smiled skeptically.

  "Now you'll have to grow up," he remarked.

  It was obvious that Ralph’s mother would never go back to stifling Nineveh. Life in sunny and wealthy Minoan—free, chic, and sophisticated—suited her far better.

  “If that’s about my clothes, don’t worry,” Ralph replied. “Mother sends her tailors, designers, and a bunch of clothes to my sister several times a year. I hope she won’t overlook the fact that she also has a son here.”

  Demis smiled faintly. The mere memory of Bianca Dengof lifted his spirits.

  At that moment, the smartphone Ralph had left on the control panel began to vibrate. He glanced at the screen.

  “Speak of the devil,” he muttered and accepted the call.

  Demis suddenly understood who was calling.