Chapter 292 She Has Been Planning This All Along
The secretary said, “The Infinity Group suffered a string of crushing defeats. Deals that had once seemed ironclad unraveled overnight, the once–loyal business partners now pledging allegiance to the Doyle family instead. The fallout is swift and brutal–breach–of–contract disputes loom like a gathering storm, while suppliers, once reliable, abruptly severed their ties. Without those critical shipments, orders will be left unfulfilled, and the company is staring down the barrel of hefty compensation payouts.”
“How did it come to this?” Esme, her face still streaked with tears, felt the weight of reality crash over her like a cold wave. At the mention of her son’s predicament, she forced herself to set aside her sorrow, her tear- streaked face tightening with resolve.
Eric’s expression was also dark, his grip on the porcelain teacup so fierce that his knuckles had turned ghostly
white.
“The Doyle family? Jarrod? Is he really declaring open war on our family?”
Eric’s voice, though low, carried the unmistakable bite of fury.
“Shaun’s downfall should have left Jarrod with a full plate. He ought to be busy reining in Shaun’s former subordinates, not stirring up a fresh fight with us. So why would he make such a bold move now?” Renee remained composed and analyzed the situation.
In times of turmoil, a steady head was more valuable than gold, and Renee knew that better than anyone.
Eric didn’t hesitate and ordered, “Find out what the Doyle family is up to. Now.” His tone brooked no argument.
Renee, meanwhile, attempted to reach William, though she already knew how this would play out. As she had expected, the call rang endlessly before going to voicemail. William had no time to talk–not with the Mitchell
family under so much pressure.
And the storm was only growing. It wasn’t just the Doyle family. The Perez family, sensing weakness, circled like vultures, snatching up any opportunity to profit from the Infinity Group’s misfortune.
During her investigation, Renee uncovered another unsettling truth–Nixon was silently maneuvering behind the scenes, seizing the opportunity to claim his share of the spoils.
In just one night, the Mitchell family had gone from kingpin to prey, with all of Tofral eager to target them.
Meanwhile, at the Doyle family’s house.
Jarrod eyed the pile of freshly signed contracts on his desk, a deep furrow carving into his brow. He had been preoccupied with family matters lately, leaving the reins of the company in his assistant’s hands.
Normally, deals of this scale would have crossed his desk for final approval. Yet here they were–contracts
signed and sealed without so much as a whisper to him.
Jarrod’s instincts prickled. Something was off. Without hesitation, he dialed his assistant. The moment the call connected, his voice was sharp. “What the hell is going on with these contracts?” he asked.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a hesitant response echoed. “Mr. Doyle… Weren’t these approved by you? Miss Payne said…”
The assistant stopped talking mid–sentence, realization dawning on him. His breath hitched, and when he spoke again, his voice held a nervous tremor.
“Mr. Doyle, are you saying you didn’t authorize these deals?” he asked.
Jarrod’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. Without a word; he ended the call abruptly, his fingers pressing the screen with finality.
Without missing a beat, he strode out of his study and headed straight for the master bedroom. He shoved the door open, expecting to see Sylvia, but the room was empty. His gaze flicked to the slightly ajar bathroom door, but one glance confirmed it was vacant as well.
Turning sharply, he descended the stairs, his leather shoes striking the wooden floor with a crisp, deliberate rhythm, each step fueling the storm brewing inside him.
The living room was empty. And in the kitchen, only the housekeeper was present.
Startled by the sound of Jarrod’s footsteps, the housekeeper turned around, her hands freezing mid–task as she
took in his dark expression.
“M–Mr. Doyle…” she stammered.
“Where is Sylvia?” Jarrod’s voice was low, edged with impatience.
“Miss Payne? She… She left early this morning,” the housekeeper stuttered, shifting nervously under his gaze.
“Where did she go?” Jarrod’s question cut through the air like a knife.
The housekeeper said, “She mentioned a business trip. She had a large suitcase with her. I even asked if she
needed help, but-”
Before the housekeeper could finish speaking, Jarrod had already pivoted on his heel, taking the stairs two at a time. Back in the master bedroom, he flung the wardrobe doors open–only to find them nearly empty. And
that was when it hit him.
Sylvia had agreed to move in, but she had never truly settled. She hadn’t left anything of real significance behind. The few clothes she wore daily were always packed neatly in her suitcase, stashed in the corner. The only things she had ever hung in the wardrobe were her pajamas–for convenience.
She had been planning this all along.
A cold chuckle escaped Jarrod’s lips before his face twisted into a scowl.
Damn it!
With a sharp movement, Jarrod’s fist crashed into the door, the impact echoing through the room.
