The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 193

Orion

The Federal Commerce Building loomed before us like a fortress of bureaucratic power, its granite facade and imposing columns designed to remind visitors that the United States government was not to be trifled with. Marcus and I passed through multiple security checkpoints, each more thorough than the last, before finally being escorted to the main auditorium on the fifteenth floor.

The venue was unlike anything I'd experienced in my years of corporate dealings. Instead of the usual private conference rooms where billion-dollar agreements were quietly negotiated, we'd been ushered into what could only be described as a financial colosseum. The auditorium was vast, with tiered seating that could accommodate several hundred people.

Representatives from various government departments occupied the front rows—serious-faced men and women in identical dark suits, their expressions betraying nothing. Behind them sat executives from major corporations, some here as observers, others as competitors, all of them radiating the kind of predatory attention that came with watching potential rivals face public execution.

The lighting was harsh and unforgiving, designed more for transparency than comfort. Multiple cameras were positioned throughout the room, and I realized with growing unease that this wasn't just a formal procedure—it was being documented for posterity.

It was exactly five o'clock, and my phone remained stubbornly silent. No calls, no texts, no word from Aveline about the funding situation. I'd tried calling her three times during the drive here, each attempt going straight to voicemail.

"Sir," Marcus whispered urgently, his usual composure starting to crack. "Should I send someone to find Ms. Reeves? I'm worried that—"

"No," I cut him off quietly. "I believe what she told me. It's still early, and arranging this kind of funding takes time. Don't disturb her."

Marcus's face was tight with anxiety. "But sir, look—"

I followed his gaze and immediately understood his concern. Devan and Charles had just entered the auditorium, their posture radiating confidence and barely contained glee. They moved through the crowd like predators who could already taste victory, acknowledging various acquaintances with the casual authority of men who believed they'd already won.

"Marcus," I said calmly, "go wait by the entrance. When Ms. Reeves arrives, escort her in immediately."

My assistant nodded and hurried away, but not before Devan and Charles noticed his urgent departure. Their matching smiles were absolutely predatory.

"Oh, Orion!" Devan called out as they approached, his voice carrying just loud enough for nearby observers to hear. "You know, you really didn't have to come today. You could have simply had your assistant submit a formal withdrawal from the bidding process. No need to subject yourself to this... unpleasantness."

Charles nodded with exaggerated sympathy. "Now, now, Devan. We should respect his choice to attend. Some people prefer to face their defeats with dignity."

I straightened my shoulders and fixed them both with a cold stare. "Save your concern, gentlemen. I'm not the one who should be worried about embarrassment today."

Devan's laugh was genuinely delighted. "Ah, the famous Blackwell pride! Even when facing certain humiliation, you maintain that arrogant facade. I almost admire it. Though showing up today is rather like attending your own funeral, don't you think?"

I turned to walk away, but their voices followed me.

"Devan," Charles said in a stage whisper clearly meant for my ears, "I heard our dear nephew spent last night calling every major corporation in New York, begging for loans. Any word on how that went?"

"Oh, the results were quite clear," Devan replied with obvious satisfaction. "Empty hands and wounded pride—exactly what you'd expect from someone who's finally learned his place in the world."

Their laughter echoed through the auditorium, drawing curious glances from other attendees.

I forced myself to keep walking, maintaining my composure even as their words hit their intended mark.

What caught my attention, however, was the elevated platform at the front of the auditorium. Several high-backed chairs had been arranged there, suggesting that important government officials would be personally overseeing what should have been a routine deposit confirmation process. I watched as a distinguished figure in an expensive suit was escorted to the platform, where he conducted a brief inspection of the proceedings before stepping down.

This wasn't how these transactions usually worked. The growing sense of unease in my chest told me that today's proceedings were going to be far more public and scrutinized than anything I'd experienced before.

If I failed to produce the required funds in front of this audience, it wouldn't just be a private business setback—it would be a public execution of my professional reputation.

I was checking my phone again when a familiar figure appeared in my peripheral vision. Grandfather Bryce was making his way through the crowd, but he looked completely different from his usual flamboyant self. Gone were the brightly colored suits and ostentatious accessories. Instead, he wore a conservative charcoal gray suit with minimal jewelry, and there was no sign of his usual female companions. His entire demeanor suggested someone attending a funeral rather than a business event.

He settled into the seat beside me with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"Grandfather," I said with a bitter smile, "I thought you'd decided to skip today's festivities."

He gripped my hand tightly, his eyes filled with genuine pain. "Even if today marks your downfall, I wanted to be here with you. Whatever happens, you shouldn't face it alone."