Oberon had held back his frustration for as long as he could, wrestling with his words until there was no choice but to let the truth spill out. It wasn't easy to admit, but the weight of the matter left him no other option. After hearing him out, Seraphina nearly laughed, though not out of amusement—it was the kind of exasperation that bordered on disbelief. That group of dimwitted fools had taken it upon themselves to handle the situation privately, only to bungle it spectacularly. Not only had they been caught in the act, but the entire fiasco had been recorded, leaving behind irrefutable evidence that could come back to haunt them. What was this supposed to mean? It meant she had been saddled with allies as useless as they were thoughtless. And now, those same people, who had turned a manageable problem into a full-blown disaster, expected her to step in, apologize on their behalf, and patch things up. In theory, the situation should have been straightforward. All Seraphina needed to do was confront Liam, the root of the issue, and bring it to an end. But thanks to her so-called teammates, a straightforward solution had become a labyrinth of complications. "A pack of idiots," Seraphina said icily, her tone slicing through the room like a blade. "Does the PR department do anything besides breathing? Is their collective brain nothing more than a landfill of useless ideas? If they don't have the competence for the job, they shouldn't be taking it on." Oberon stood motionless, silent under the weight of her words. One stood quietly, taking the brunt of her anger, while the other loomed with indignation. It was a scene that looked for all the world like Seraphina was personally berating Oberon, though he wasn't the true target of her rage. Outside the slightly ajar door, Evelyn had been quietly eavesdropping. As she peeked in, her mouth fell open in astonishment. She was so stunned by what she saw that she nearly forgot to close it again. Seraphina's piercing gaze didn't waver as she glared at Oberon. "You couldn't resolve this mess, and now you want me to lower myself, to grovel, just to smooth things over? Don't be ridiculous. I don't care how bad it gets—this is not my problem to fix. Even if I were somehow to blame, I wouldn't go. Whoever created this disaster can be the one to clean it up." "This disaster happened because of you," Oberon countered, his voice cold and authoritative. "And I am ordering you to apologize to the Lewis family. Fix this, or things will only get worse." The stock price of Whitewood Group had already taken a slight dip. If nothing was done soon, it could plummet further, and Oberon knew the repercussions would be severe—not just for the company, but for everyone tied to it, Seraphina included. But Seraphina didn't flinch. Her sharp, unyielding eyes met Oberon's without hesitation. "Apologies are for fools," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "I'll deal with this on my terms. Just make sure the PR department stays out of my way. I won't let them drag me down with their incompetence." Behind the door, Evelyn couldn't help but marvel at the sight. Her admiration for Seraphina swelled. Seraphina is as tough as nails. Evelyn had assumed Seraphina would be the one bullied into submission, but now, it was painfully clear how naive that assumption had been. "Miss Evelyn, why are you standing by the door?" The unexpected voice startled her, and the conversation inside abruptly ceased. In the moments that followed, father and daughter parted ways, their tempers still smoldering. Later that night, a lone figure slipped out of the villa under the cover of darkness. The low growl of a motorcycle shattered the silence, its headlights cutting through the shadows as it sped toward the city center. Minutes passed in a blur before it veered into the less polished streets of the South District. About half an hour later, the motorcycle came to a stop in front of an old, weathered apartment building. The rider—a young woman clad in black—lifted her gaze to check the building number. This was the place. Seraphina dismounted and made her way inside, the faint glow of a flickering bulb barely illuminating the narrow stairwell. Shadows danced along the walls as she ascended, her steps soundless against the creaky wooden stairs. On the third floor, she stopped in front of an unremarkable door. From her pocket, she retrieved a thin wire, slipping it deftly into the keyhole. A few precise twists later, the lock gave way with a soft click. The door creaked open, revealing nothing but a sea of darkness. Seraphina stepped inside and closed the door behind her, waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust. The faintest sliver of light seeped through the edges of the curtain, revealing the outlines of modest furniture in the cramped room. Moving as quietly as a shadow, she approached the bed where a man lay snoring softly. Leaning over him, she pressed her fingers gently against his neck. His breathing slowed, and he sank into a sleep so deep that waking him now would take a miracle. Satisfied, Seraphina straightened and flicked on the light. The room was just as she had expected—messy and disorganized, with papers, clothes, and gadgets strewn about haphazardly. She didn't waste time sifting through the chaos. Knowing Liam's habits and line of work, she ignored the computer entirely and went straight to the drawers. Her instincts paid off. In a small metal box, she found several USB drives, each carefully labeled. Without hesitation, she took them all, along with the camera resting on his cluttered desk. From the moment she entered the building to the moment she left, the entire operation lasted less than fifteen minutes. Her movements were smooth, her resolve unwavering, leaving no trace of her presence as she disappeared into the night.