Chapter 179: Chapter 179: The Script of a Tragedy

In the sprawling, interconnected world of high finance and corporate dominance, information regarding a figure as prominent as Ethan Caldwell was not particularly difficult to unearth. His public profile, his business acquisitions, and his general movements were matters of public record, easily accessible to anyone with a functioning internet connection and a modicum of curiosity. However, stumbling upon the specific designation of “Assistant Sterling” was an entirely different matter. It was a breadcrumb that led down a much more secluded path. To be able to utter that specific title with such casual confidence implied that Dahlia Thorne possessed a degree of awareness that went far beyond common knowledge. It suggested she was privy to the intricate details of Julian Sterling’s personal intervention in the contractual negotiations between the colossal Caldwell Empire and Iris Visuals.

Yet, upon further reflection, this revelation was not altogether surprising. It was a foregone conclusion that a man as cunning and resource-laden as Gabriel Cole would have embedded his own operatives deep within the infrastructure of the Caldwell Empire. The reach and sophistication of his intelligence network were forces that no one in their right mind would dare to underestimate. As for the woman sitting across from them… While it remained ambiguous whether she held the position of a cherished confidante or a clandestine lover to that man, one fact was indisputable. There existed a tightly woven web of mutual interests binding them together, a symbiotic relationship of benefit and ambition that allowed her access to such privileged information.

Seeming to detect the flicker of skepticism and wary calculation that danced in the depths of the two men’s eyes, Dahlia Thorne chose to embrace candor. A faint, knowing smirk played upon her lips, a gesture that was both charming and chilling. She performed a graceful motion, lifting her porcelain coffee cup to take a delicate, measured sip. Only after savoring the bitter brew did she speak, her words measured and unhurried, cutting through the silence of the room.

“Since we have taken the trouble to meet here today, I believe it is in all our best interests to speak without veils or pretenses. We are all adults here, after all. Regarding my knowledge of Mr. Sterling… ah, but perhaps that form of address is not to your liking. It feels somewhat stiff, does it not? If you will permit me the liberty, I shall refer to you simply as Mr. Julian. As for the matter of Mr. Julian overseeing the relevant projects within the Caldwell Empire, I assure you, my insight was merely a stroke of coincidence. I happened to overhear Gabriel Cole mention it in passing during a telephone conversation. It was nothing more than a fragment of eavesdropped intelligence.”

She lowered the cup back onto its saucer, the contact producing a crisp, clear that seemed to punctuate the air like a gavel striking a judge’s desk. Then, lacing her ten fingers together in a posture of composed negotiation, she let her sharp, calculating gaze sweep over the two men sitting opposite her. Her eyes held a predatory gleam, assessing their reactions.

“After all, in the current equation, I am the one at a disadvantage, the weaker party seeking alliances in a hostile environment. So, let us propose a transaction. I shall provide a morsel of insider information to you both, as a demonstration of my sincerity and willingness to cooperate. I wonder, how does such a proposition sit with Mr. Caldwell and Mr. Julian?”

“Since you speak so boldly of sincerity…” Julian Sterling offered a smile in return, though the expression remained merely a curvature of the lips, failing to reach the cold calculation in his eyes. It was a polite mask, hiding the sharp intellect beneath: “Then I must trouble Miss Thorne to articulate exactly what this sincerity entails before we proceed. It is entirely possible that the information you possess is something we have already acquired through our own channels, or perhaps it holds little to no value in the grand scheme of things. In such a case, it could hardly be considered a gesture of good faith, but rather a waste of our time.”

“Mr. Julian is truly direct.” the woman remarked, her tone appreciative of the verbal spar rather than offended: “It is no wonder you are someone whom Mr. Caldwell holds in such high regard. You cut straight to the heart of the matter.”

The woman curled her lips into a broader smile. She wore a shade of crimson lipstick, a vibrant, aggressive red that contrasted starkly with her meticulously applied makeup and the sharp, angular contours of her face. The image she projected was absolute, that of a woman who was intelligent, brimming with ambition, and entirely comfortable with the pursuit of power. Her voice was unhurried, carrying a trace of languid ease, yet the content of her words was nothing short of earth-shattering.

“My gesture of sincerity is this, the downfall of Jason Harrington, his sudden and catastrophic loss of inheritance rights… in reality, it was all orchestrated and accelerated by the hand of Gabriel Cole working from the shadows. He did not merely watch it happen; he pushed the pieces to ensure it did.”

That single sentence caused the atmosphere in the room to grow heavy, sinking with the sudden weight of the revelation. Both Julian Sterling and Ethan Caldwell betrayed a momentary flash of surprise, their guarded expressions cracking for just a fraction of a second.

From the very moment they became aware that Dahlia Thorne had resurfaced at Gabriel Cole’s side, donning a new identity and a new persona, both men had, in truth, calculated and considered a multitude of scenarios. They had run the simulations in their minds, trying to predict the game being played. The most probable theory was that following the catastrophic events that befell the Thorne family, Gabriel Cole intended to utilize Dahlia Thorne as a pawn, a strategic piece to be maneuvered against the Harrington family to sow discord and chaos within his rival’s internal ranks.

They simply had not anticipated that the machinations would commence so prematurely. It appeared that Gabriel Cole’s influence had already extended its reach, his invisible hand manipulating events from the very moment Jason Harrington’s commercial marriage began to fracture. The timeline was far more aggressive than they had estimated.

However, before either of the two men could probe for further details or clarify the extent of Gabriel’s involvement, Dahlia Thorne took it upon herself to continue. Her gaze drifted away from them, fixing upon an indefinite point in the void, as if watching a film that only she could see.

“What I mean is…” She began, her voice taking on a haunting quality: “…every single event in the long-running tragedy, the drama involving Jason Harrington… starting from the moment Daisy Thorne met that man in the bar, extending through the scandals of passion, the pregnancy, the concealment… and reaching the climax with the car accident that took my parents, followed by her and the unborn child falling to their deaths… All of it. All of it was part of the script.”

The woman spoke with utter detachment, her tone so calm it bordered on frigidity. It was a disturbing juxtaposition to the horror of the events she was describing. It was as if the three horrific deaths in the story she had just summarized with such casual brevity did not belong to her own flesh and blood, her own kin. She spoke of them as if narrating a stranger’s misfortune. She still referred to her parents as parents, acknowledging the biological tie, yet when it came to her own biological sister, she used the full name “Daisy Thorne” without a shred of familial reverence or affection.

Perhaps, deep down, Dahlia Thorne hated her sister to the very marrow of her bones. She likely loathed the stupidity, the blindness that led Daisy to sacrifice everything for a worthless man. In Dahlia’s eyes, Daisy’s foolishness had not only cost her own life but had shattered their entire family and ruined the pristine reputation they had spent years building. The resentment was palpable, layering her words with ice.

Julian Sterling and Ethan Caldwell exchanged a fleeting glance, a silent communication passing between them in that instant. They implicitly understood that the reality behind these events was far from as simple as the surface suggested. The narrative was too neat, too cruel.

If what Dahlia Thorne said was true, if the deaths of those three people were directly linked to Gabriel Cole, if he was indeed the puppeteer pulling the strings that led to the destruction of her family, then why, in the present moment, would she willingly and contentedly remain by the side of her nemesis? Why would she sit at the right hand of the man responsible for her tragedy?

Was it a complex ploy to act as a mole, plotting a devastating revenge from within the lion’s den? Or was she enduring the humiliation, swallowing her pride and biding her time until the perfect opportunity arose to strike?

But the question remained, for someone hailing from an ordinary intellectual background, her parents mere university lecturers, with three generations of clean history untouched by the scheming, treacherous machinations of the upper class, how could she possibly have accessed and grasped such confidential intelligence? How did a woman from a world of books and academia navigate the shark-infested waters of corporate espionage to uncover a truth so buried? The incongruity of her origins and her current knowledge was a puzzle that neither Julian nor Ethan could immediately solve.

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