Chapter 162

“So, Vasili Family,” Liam snorted. “May I know the purpose of telling me this?” he asked.

Felicity Covington smiled. “Mr. Horvath, please don’t misunderstand. I didn’t come here to create chaos between you and Miss Rossi. I came to help.”

“I don’t remember asking for help, Miss Covington. I don’t need it.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you knew about Frederik all along?”

Liam didn’t answer. He leaned back and smirked.

“That’s impossible,” Felicity said, shaking her head. “If you knew about Frederik Vasili’s interference in the Macau project, why did you let Miss Rossi handle it alone?” Was she wrong? Was it possible Liam and Isabella Rossi had no relationship?

No. Felicity couldn’t accept that. Her research into people's weaknesses had never been wrong. From what she’d gathered, Miss Rossi was very important to Liam Horvath. She wasn’t sure of the exact nature of their relationship, but she was confident they were more than friends—lovers, more likely. Or perhaps even husband and wife.

She had never been wrong before, and she was confident she wasn't wrong now.

Seeing her reaction, Liam shrugged. “While I don’t know what Miss Covington is thinking, I can assure you of one thing: you are not needed.”

“What?”

“I don’t need you to intervene in any of my—”

“Mr. Horvath, please don’t take this the wrong way. I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I only want cooperation!” Felicity interrupted. Something about Liam Horvath shook her confidence. “Mr. Horvath, I don’t want any misunderstanding. I didn’t come here just to ask for a favor. I sincerely want to cooperate. I wanted to show you I can contribute. Please, just take a look.”

Liam pursed his lips. He stared at her before opening the folder she’d given him. He looked at the contents, and his expression changed. “These are things that could cause problems for the Vasili Family.”

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. She nodded. “Yes, they are.”

Liam’s eyes flickered over the folder’s contents, his fingers flipping through the pages. Each photograph was neatly labeled, with timestamps and locations marked in sharp black ink. Images of Frederik Vasili, leaning close to Macau officials in dimly lit restaurants; crisp handshakes exchanged over briefcases; offshore accounts linked to shell companies; names and numbers meticulously cataloged; invoices for suspicious transactions; signatures that matched too perfectly; and a series of emails that left little room for interpretation.

There were also bank statements, highlighting untraceable funds wired to key officials overseeing the Macau project. A surveillance photo showed Frederik’s right-hand man passing an envelope to a stern-looking middle-aged man outside a casino, time-stamped two months ago. The final page bore a copy of a police report—one that had somehow never seen the light of day—alleging coercion and threats made against local contractors to stall operations. How did she get this?

Liam’s eyes narrowed, lingering on that last document. His fingers drummed idly against the folder, a faint glint of something dark and calculating in his gaze.

Felicity watched him carefully, fingers laced neatly in her lap, eyes glinting with satisfaction. Inwardly, she felt a spark of vindication. This was after just a few days of investigation. She had uncovered a lot about Mr. Vasili, including bribes, favors, and other illegal activities. Everything had been perfectly laid out.

If this wasn’t enough to ruin Frederik Vasili, nothing would be.

All she wanted was to secure an alliance with Horvath Industries, to push her own agenda forward, and to prove, once and for all, that her father had been wrong about her.

“What do you want in return?” he asked, eyes never leaving the damning evidence.

Felicity’s eyes glinted. “Simple,” she said smoothly. “I want to be the CEO of Covington Holdings. I also want to be the official representative for all future dealings with Horvath Industries. In short, Mr. Horvath, I want control.”

Liam arched a brow, leaning back with a faintly amused expression. “All this,” he muttered, tapping the folder lightly, “just to prove your father wrong?”

Felicity’s lips pressed into a thin line. She sucked in a quiet breath, hands folded neatly in her lap. “My mother was the original CEO of Covington Holdings,” she said, eyes glinting coldly, “My father took that from her. I intend to take back what should have been mine.”

Liam watched her for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, but said nothing.

Felicity took it as permission to continue. “I apologize for the… thoroughness of my research,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “I understand your privacy is valuable, but I needed something substantial—something you couldn’t ignore.” Her fingers drummed once against her thigh, controlled and steady. “This is just business, Mr. Horvath.”

Liam’s eyes glinted faintly. “Business,” he repeated, almost lazily. He flipped a page back, scanning the details.

Felicity waited, posture straight, eyes never leaving his. She’d played her cards; now it was his turn.

Liam’s eyes flickered over the documents one last time before snapping the folder shut. He leaned back, fingers steepled loosely, gaze cool and calculating. “Fine,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “You can have the position—as long as your father signs the acquisition papers. No signatures, no deal.”

Felicity’s eyes glinted triumphantly. A slow smile curved her lips, and she rose smoothly, extending a hand across the desk expectantly. “Then we have a deal, Mr. Horvath,” she said, fingers steady, eyes gleaming.

But Liam didn’t move. He glanced at her hand, unimpressed, and arched a brow. “We’ll talk again once your father’s signed,” he said flatly. “Not before.”

Felicity’s hand hung in the air for a moment, but she withdrew it smoothly, lips twitching amusedly. “Of course,” she said, unbothered. “You won’t be disappointed.”

She straightened her jacket, eyes sharp and assured. “I’ll get the paperwork ready,” she added, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll have everything by the end of the week.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed faintly, but he said nothing, fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the desk.