Chapter 978:
Whispers lingered that Miss Scott had died in childhood—her name no more than a ghost in family records, a shadow living only in rumor.
INQ was a temple of luxury, housing only the most prestigious designer brands, its flagship stores gleaming in major cities across the country. It was the premier destination for the nation’s wealthy elite.
Dylan himself was seldom seen at his family’s malls, and he rarely allowed the media even a glimpse. So, what on earth had brought him to INQ today, of all days?
At Jaida’s words, Jett dropped to his knees in terror, his body trembling so badly that he nearly disgraced himself then and there. But he hadn’t done something to offend Dylan, had he?
Jett’s mind churned frantically, raking through memories, searching for any misstep—yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not fathom how he could have provoked Dylan. For no one who crossed Dylan ever came to a good end.
Chloe, seeing her brother arrive, straightened her back with pride. Her sweet face lifted slightly, her wide, sparkling eyes glowing with triumph. The instant her brother arrived, the male sales assistant’s and this unbearable woman’s bravado evaporated.
“Mr. Scott, your esteemed presence…” Jett began, his voice quivering—only to be cut short by Dylan’s frigid command. “Call your manager. Now.”
“Y-yes, yes!” Another male sales assistant fumbled for his phone and quickly dialed.
“Brad, come at once! Mr. Scott is here!” But the sheer pressure of Dylan’s stare strangled the words in his throat. His trembling hand cut the call off midsentence, leaving the manager on the other end abruptly cast into silence.
No one in the store dared to breathe too loudly. Even the wealthy socialites, who just moments earlier had been casually browsing jewelry, now huddled nervously in the corners. They stilled their breaths, desperate to vanish from Dylan’s notice. None of them wanted to be caught in the crossfire of his fury. That would be a calamity far too undeserved.
𝓥𝓲𝓮𝔀 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓬𝓮: ⲅ𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⫸𝖼𝗈𝗺
Their eyes darted anxiously between Jaida, the kneeling Jett, and the three striking young women, silently speculating which of them would face ruin before the day was out.
Within minutes, Brad Cohen, the store manager, burst into the shop, his face glistening with sweat. Before he could even draw a proper breath, he forced a fawning smile and rushed forward, bowing as he spoke. “Mr. Scott, what honor do we owe for your personal visit?”
But as Brad finished his words, he finally caught sight of his younger brother kneeling on the floor. His heart lurched violently in his chest. Could it be that this reckless fool had actually offended Dylan? If so, their entire family was finished. One word from Dylan, and every industry door would slam shut against them forever.
Brad’s mind spun in circles with panic, yet he dared not speak rashly.
“Seriously? This is your store’s idea of customer service?” Dylan’s voice cut like a blade of ice, enough to freeze marrow.
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.
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