Chapter 94

Chapter 94:

Shock, anger, and a dawning realization flashed across Joselyn’s face, betraying the storm raging inside her. Fernanda remained composed and unhurried, her intentions worn openly like armor. A serene smile played on her lips as she held Joselyn’s gaze with unwavering confidence.

Joselyn’s voice rose, sharp and defensive. “I can offer you money, but shares? Forget it!”

Fernanda’s smile never faltered. “Let me remind you, Mrs. Ross, money can always be earned back. But your daughter’s reputation? Once it’s tarnished, it’s nearly impossible to restore.”

“You—”

“Have you been following the news? The rumors already paint your daughter as a criminal. If this isn’t handled properly, that stain will follow her forever. I doubt you want that for her.”

A chill ran through Joselyn. The poised young woman before her, with that unyielding smile, was painting a future for Ava that was grim and unshakable.

“You know her ambitions better than anyone,” Fernanda continued, her chin lifting slightly. Her tone was cold, relentless. “No sum of money outweighs your daughter’s future.”

Joselyn stared into Fernanda’s eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only unwavering determination. There was no room for negotiation—Fernanda had made her terms clear.

“Eighty million,” Joselyn countered.

Fernanda shook her head, her calm unbroken. “My condition is one percent of the shares. No amount of money will change that.”

The Ross Group’s shares had been steadily increasing in value, making them far more valuable than mere cash. Securing even a single percent was an achievement that could not be so easily bought.

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Fernanda understood exactly what those shares were worth, and for her, money was no substitute.

“That’s my offer,” Fernanda said, her smile almost disarmingly cordial. “Think it over. When you’ve made your decision, contact my brother. He’ll handle it from there.”

With that, she opened the car door and stepped out. Leaning on her crutch, she walked away with steady, deliberate steps. Her back was slightly stooped, but her posture radiated determination, not submission.

Joselyn watched her go, struck by the young woman’s unyielding spirit. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, Fernanda would never bow.

A headache pulsed behind Joselyn’s temples as she absently rubbed them, Fernanda’s bold demand echoing in her mind.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror and asked cautiously, “Madam, where to?”

“To the company,” Joselyn replied curtly.

Yet as the car began to move, Joselyn’s thoughts shifted. “No. Take me home instead.”

She realized that bringing up Fernanda’s demand with Hunk would only lead to conflict. One percent of the shares might seem minor, but for a corporation of the Ross Group’s scale, it represented a pivotal shift in control. The group’s leadership remained secure for now, but the gap between the main stakeholders and the others wasn’t large.

If Fernanda obtained those shares and later sold them—especially to a rival—the consequences could be severe. Hunk would never tolerate that risk.

The Ross Group was more than just a business to Hunk—it was his life’s masterpiece, the pinnacle of his ambition, and the very foundation of his identity. To him, it meant more than even Joselyn or Ava. Any threat to its stability was something Hunk would never allow.

Realizing this, Joselyn knew she needed to come up with the best possible solution before she could even bring Fernanda’s demand to Hunk. She had to tread carefully; the stakes were simply too high.

Meanwhile, Fernanda returned home. As she stepped inside, the comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air. Ector, dressed in casual beige, stood over a hand-cranked coffee grinder.

“You’re back, Fernanda. Perfect timing. Come try my latest blend,” he called out with a grin.

Fernanda made her way to the table. Ector slid a half-filled cup toward her and placed milk and sugar within reach.

She ignored the additions, lifting the cup and sipping it black. The bitterness spread across her tongue. Ector watched with interest.

“Doesn’t it taste bitter?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I’m used to it,” Fernanda replied, her tone calm. “Milk and sugar smooth it out, but they hide the coffee’s true flavor. I’ve trained myself to drink it black—it keeps me alert. Maybe the bitterness sharpens my mind.”

Ector chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with a trace of admiration. “You know, Fernanda, you’re so young, but your words have real weight. What you just said about coffee—it could just as well be about life.”

Sweetness could be overwhelming, but it was bitterness that taught resilience and strength.

“Exactly,” Fernanda said with a playful wink. “Take my leg injury, for example. On the surface, it was a setback. But who knows? Maybe it will end up earning me some serious compensation.”

Ector caught the hint in her words and nodded thoughtfully. “So, the Ross family has reached out to you?”

“They have,” she replied, setting her cup down gently. “They’ll probably come calling again tomorrow. If they contact you first, let me know.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re considering reconciliation?”

“Perhaps, if they meet my terms.”

If the Ross family truly handed over one percent of their shares, Fernanda would go from being an outsider to a stakeholder in the Ross Group. She would have a voice in decisions and a share in the profits—profits that promised to be significant.

And all of this was for the price of a dislocated ankle. Fernanda couldn’t help but marvel at the bargain. Her injury would heal in a few months, but the opportunity to secure a stake in the Ross Group was something that rarely came along.

“What exactly did you ask for?” Ector couldn’t hide his curiosity.

Fernanda answered without hesitation, laying out her strategy. His eyes widened, disbelief clear on his face.

“Impressed?” Fernanda asked with a teasing smile.

“Absolutely,” Ector replied, giving her a genuine thumbs-up. “I never expected you to be so bold.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? They’re the ones coming to me on their knees.” Fernanda shrugged and finished her coffee. “But I have to thank you for setting the stage so perfectly.”

Ector had taken an uncompromising stance with the Ross family, leaving them convinced that negotiation was out of the question. The Morgan family’s single demand was clear and unwavering: Ava must face imprisonment.

Under such intense pressure, the Ross family’s anxiety was bound to escalate, pushing them to offer highly attractive terms right from the start. With that groundwork in place, no matter how bold Fernanda’s demands were, they would seem perfectly justified. The change in their tone was proof enough of their desperation.

It was a calculated game of strategy—a true battle of wits.

At that moment, Ector finally understood why Fernanda had insisted he remain so unyielding with the Ross family. He couldn’t help but be amazed by his sister’s sharp mind. At just nineteen, she read people with ease, orchestrating every move as if it were all part of a grand design. It was remarkable to witness.

He also realized why Fernanda had tolerated Ava’s behavior for so long. She wasn’t acting out of forgiveness—she was being strategic. Every time Ava tried something, Fernanda managed to turn it to her own advantage. Simple punishment might have brought some satisfaction, but using the situation for leverage was far more rewarding. Fernanda’s brilliance was undeniable.

A sudden noise at the door jolted Ector from his thoughts. Kevin appeared, his expression eager.

“Let’s go, bumpkin! It’s time for our match!” Kevin pointed at Fernanda. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our bet.”

Fernanda smirked, completely at ease. “Forgotten? Not at all. I’m just worried you’ll back out when things get tough.”

“Me? Back out? That’s a joke,” Kevin scoffed.

He turned to Ector. “You’ll be our witness. Make sure she doesn’t try to wriggle out of the bet when I win.”

Ector shook his head, barely hiding his amusement.

In his eyes, the outcome was already clear. Fernanda wouldn’t have agreed to the bet unless she was absolutely certain of her victory. Even though Ector didn’t play their games or know their exact skill levels, he could already predict Kevin’s fate. The poor guy was only digging his own grave.

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