Chapter 326

They all knew that a corporation as massive as Lambert Group wouldn't just collapse. Its recovery was only a matter of time. This was their only window to secure more favorable terms for future profits.

Ultimately, however, they were still the ones in the weaker position. Trying to snatch food from Clifford's jaws was a fool's errand. His attitude toward Mr. Wingard proved it-he simply didn't care. Even without them, he could find plenty of other partners. And if not large corporations, countless smaller companies would be scrambling for a chance to work with him.

To put it bluntly, every big company starts small. Except for established dynasties like the Lambert family, most giants were once small enterprises. If the dogs you raised develop a taste for their master's flesh, it's not hard to raise a new pack. That was the reality of their situation.

Clifford seemed determined to watch Mr. Wingard finish every last drop, forcing everyone else to sit there with him.

When Emily returned, she finally collapsed onto the sofa, completely passed out. No matter how much Mr. Wingard shook her, she wouldn't wake up.

Furious, Mr. Wingard looked at the last two bottles on the table. With a surge of determination, he grabbed them and started chugging. He downed both bottles in one go, slammed them on the table, and before he could say a word, he turned and vomited violently into the trash can. The others recoiled in disgust, inching away.

When he was done, Mr. Wingard looked at Clifford, his eyes hazy. "Mr. Lambert... I finished the drinks. You have to... keep your word."

Clifford's lips curved into a smile. He stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his sleeves, and picked up his jacket. "The sun's up. Let's all go home. I had a wonderful time tonight."

With that, he turned and walked out.

Latisha, who had been drowsing, snapped awake and scrambled to follow him. After he left, the remaining men turned to Greyson.

"We're a bit confused about how things played out."

"Me too," another added. "We were supposed to negotiate, but we just sat here all night and achieved nothing."

Greyson adjusted his glasses and stood up. "That's just Mr. Lambert's personality. Your attitude wasn't exactly cooperative, so it's only natural that things didn't work out."

That confused them even more. They thought they had been perfectly reasonable. It was Mr.

Wingard who had been fixated onet

Clifford's assistant. It was like & lower tier partner demanding you hand over your assistant Who wouldn't be offended?

An assistant's importance was ambiguous. But in their circle, there was an unwritten rule: you could offer your own assistant, but you

never demanded someone else's. To

de so was a profound insult.

Realizing this, they all glared at Mr. Wingard. He was the one bad apple who had spoiled the whole bunch.

Clifford walked quickly, and Latisha had to jog to keep up. He ignored her completely, getting into his car and starting the engine.

Latisha stood by the door, uncertain whether to get in or not. He seemed angry, and she was afraid to provoke him further. She just stood there, biting her lip and twisting the hem of her sleeve like a child who had done something wrong.

A moment later, the passenger window rolled down.

"Do I have to invite you in?"