Chapter 4

"Deceiving people!"

Mira's face darkened as she roared at me.

"Henry, if you dare show whatever fake content is on that USB today, tomorrow I'll have my legal team sue you for defamation and slander. Prison food is guaranteed."

The employees behind her nodded in unison.

Marcus even stepped forward half a step, his eyes red-rimmed, like a lamb I'd cornered on a cliff.

"Everyone, don't be fooled by his USB drive."

He first bowed to the crowd, then turned and pointed at me:

"Three years ago, I accompanied Henry to City A for client negotiations. At eleven at night, he had me deliver an urgent contract to his suite. When the door opened, a woman came out—not Mira. Afraid of being silenced, I bought a ticket and flew back that same night. The next day, he docked my entire year's commission, saying I 'mishandled client reception'!"

"That's not all. Last September, I saw him with my own eyes kissing a female influencer in the underground parking garage. Afraid of retaliation, I could only endure it. Today, he can even give away Mira as a prize—what won't he do?"

As his words landed, phone cameras throughout the banquet hall all pointed at me.

I lowered my head and smiled, refastening my cufflinks.

"Marcus, you're so good at making up stories, it's a shame you're not writing scripts... Too bad it's all fake."

I raised the USB drive, waving it at the projector port in the front row. "Just three minutes. I guarantee you'll all look at me differently."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Mira's high heel clicked once, almost cracking the stage.

"Grandpa will be here any minute. If you dare play it, just wait for the legal notices!"

"Grandpa?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Didn't you say he was recuperating abroad and wouldn't be back until next week at the earliest?"

She choked, her face alternating between pale and flushed.

I sneered and turned to insert the USB into the port.

"Stop!"

An aged but vigorous voice rang out.

The crowd parted like an invisible cane had pushed them aside, opening a straight path.

Mira's grandfather, Busby—sixty-eight years old, the true anchor of M Group.

He leaned on an ebony cane, wearing a suit.

I paused my motion and nodded to him respectfully. "Mr. Busby, you're a bit early. The show's just reaching its climax."

Mira clutched at this lifeline like a drowning person, rushing up to him, her voice instantly softening to gentle spring water: "Grandpa, why did you come yourself? Your health..."

"If I didn't come, you'd have completely disgraced me!"

Busby cut her off coldly, but his gaze passed over her, looking straight at me—or more precisely, at the USB drive in my hand.

"Henry," his voice wasn't loud, but carried the raspy quality of old-time underworld figures, "give me face. Don't play it."

I smiled. "I give you face, but have they ever given me face?"

"If you play it now, you'll be making an enemy of the entire M Group."

"If you people were reasonable, I'd naturally treat you with courtesy."

I raised my eyes, my gaze colliding with his across the space.

The air solidified to near suffocation.

Suddenly, Busby said to me:

"Henry, I know what's on that USB better than you do."

One sentence, and the entire hall erupted.

Mira's head snapped up sharply, her pupils like an earthquake: "Grandpa?"

Busby didn't look at his granddaughter, only stared at me. "Give me ten minutes. I'll tell everyone the real story. After I finish, if you still want to play it, I'll press the mouse button for you myself."