The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 194

Orion

The unexpected warmth in his gesture caught me off guard, though I tried to maintain my composure. "We haven't lost yet, Grandfather."

He let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of decades. "One billion dollars, Orion. Where exactly do you expect to find that kind of money? I spent this morning visiting every old friend and business contact I have in Manhattan. Every single one of them had some excuse—cash flow problems, investment commitments, risk management policies. It was like they'd all coordinated their rejections."

His words sent a chill through me, though I fought to keep my expression neutral. "Aveline assured me she could handle the funding. I believe her."

"Child," Grandfather said, his voice cracking slightly, "I know she's successful, and Laurent's operation is impressive, but this is one billion dollars we're talking about. There aren't ten people in all of New York who could produce that kind of liquid capital on demand."

Each word felt like a hammer blow against my carefully constructed confidence. The rational part of my mind began cataloging all the reasons why this plan was impossible—the sheer magnitude of the sum, the time constraints, the complexity of international banking regulations for transactions of this size.

"And even if she could access that kind of money," Grandfather continued relentlessly, "why would she risk it on what everyone assumes is a losing battle? If she's as smart as you believe, wouldn't she cut her losses and protect her own assets?"

The doubt was spreading through my chest like ice water. Everything he was saying made perfect logical sense. I'd let desperation and perhaps something dangerously close to emotional attachment cloud my business judgment.

"Grandfather," I said, my voice harder than I'd intended, "this analysis isn't helping anyone. Please."

He nodded sadly and turned his attention to the platform, where a government official was adjusting the microphone. The formal proceedings were about to begin.

I glanced around the auditorium and caught sight of Devan and Charles in my peripheral vision. They weren't even trying to hide their celebration anymore—Charles was actually grinning, and Devan kept checking his watch like he was counting down to my public humiliation.

My phone showed 5:30 PM. Thirty minutes until the deadline, and still no word from Aveline.

The government official stepped up to the microphone, and the auditorium fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying clearly through the sound system, "today's proceedings represent a departure from our usual private verification process. Given the unprecedented scale and public interest in the Artery of the Future project, Commerce Secretary Thompson has decided to conduct these financial confirmations in full public view."

A distinguished man in his fifties strode onto the platform with the confident bearing of someone accustomed to wielding significant power. His silver hair was perfectly styled, and his navy suit was clearly custom-tailored. This was someone who understood the weight of the moment.

"Good evening," Secretary Thompson said, taking the microphone with practiced ease. "I am Commerce Secretary David Thompson. Today, three qualified corporations will deposit one billion dollars each into federally monitored escrow accounts. Only those who successfully complete this requirement will advance to the final bidding phase for the largest infrastructure contract in our nation's history."

He paused, allowing the magnitude of his words to settle over the audience.

"The three competing entities are: Morrison-Clark Construction Consortium, Titan Infrastructure Group, and Blackwell Industries. To ensure complete transparency and accountability, each deposit will be verified in real-time before this assembly. We will conclude these proceedings by six PM sharp."

Thompson gestured toward the first row of corporate representatives. "We'll begin with Morrison-Clark, followed by Titan, and conclude with Blackwell Industries."

The first two companies' representatives approached the platform with obvious confidence. Their CFOs took turns at the government laptop, entering banking credentials and authorization codes with the casual efficiency of people who had spent their careers moving large sums of money. Within minutes, Treasury Department officials were confirming successful transfers.

"Morrison-Clark Consortium: one billion dollars confirmed and verified."

"Titan Infrastructure Group: one billion dollars confirmed and verified."

Each confirmation felt like another nail in my coffin. The process that appeared so effortless for my competitors only highlighted the impossibility of my own situation.

Secretary Thompson checked his notes, then looked directly at me with the neutral expression of someone about to deliver either salvation or execution.

"Mr. Orion Blackwell," he announced, his voice carrying across the now-silent auditorium, "please approach the platform to confirm your company's deposit submission."

The silence that followed was absolute. Every eye in the room focused on me as I stood up, knowing that I was about to face the most public failure of my professional life.

And Aveline was nowhere to be found.