Chapter 360

Adrian Valentine swiftly answered the call.

Victor Ashcroft's voice came through the receiver: "President, Vincent Langley went to see Mrs. Langley. She's preparing to use her trump card against him."

Adrian's eyes turned icy.

Vincent had survived the underworld for decades. No woman could easily manipulate him.

"On my way. Keep watching," he ordered in a low voice before hanging up.

He strode out of his office without hesitation.

Inside Eleanor Langley's office...

She discreetly adjusted the hidden camera and poured Vincent a cup of tea.

The door lock clicked.

Vincent entered, carefully locking the door behind him. Every movement was calculated.

His gaze fell upon Eleanor's haggard face. The fragility in her once-perfect features softened his heart. He had genuinely loved this woman.

"Eleanor, I thought you were unwell these past few days. So you've learned the truth. Why didn't you come to me directly?"

Eleanor let out a cold laugh.

"Vincent, I only want to know one thing—where is my daughter?"

Tears and tantrums were pointless now.

Vincent smiled gently. He'd always valued her beauty and sharp business mind.

"Eleanor, I kept it from you because I feared you couldn't handle—"

"Enough!" She cut him off sharply. "No more games. Either tell me my daughter's whereabouts, or I'll reveal to Adrian how you killed his father."

This was her only bargaining chip.

Vincent wanted Isabella to marry into the Valentine family to control their empire. That was his fatal weakness.

His eyes darkened instantly. "Eleanor, you're complicit in Adrian's father's death. Exposing this helps neither of us. Are you certain?"

She closed her eyes in anguish, her chest heavy as if crushed by stone.

Vincent pressed his advantage: "What about our son? Have you considered his fate if you destroy everything?"

Her eyes flew open. In her grief, she'd forgotten Vincent would use their son against her.

"Vincent!" She spat his name through clenched teeth, hatred overflowing.

A glint of triumph flashed in his eyes. He'd dragged her into this conspiracy precisely for this moment.

Fortunately, one secret remained hidden. Otherwise, the situation would spiral beyond control.

He never left loose ends. What he concealed would stay buried.

"Eleanor, the truth is your daughter stopped breathing at birth. To spare you pain, I brought Isabella to you. Haven't you been happy all these years?"

"Without Isabella, you would have shattered long ago."

His feigned concern made Eleanor nauseous.

She refused to believe her daughter was dead. This had to be another lie.

But to find her child, she had to endure—for now.