She straightened, irritation flashing openly across her face. “You’re talking to me like this?” she snapped. “Didn’t you want natural black diamonds?”
She lifted her chin, eyes sharp and challenging. “Your next project depends on it, doesn’t it? Only my company sells it. Are you sure you want to talk to me this way?”
Magnus looked at her like she was nothing.
“Don’t worry about my business,” he said coldly. “I can buy ten companies like yours every single day.”
Celia’s jaw tightened, fury blazing in her eyes.
Magnus’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“And do you really think that business is yours?” he continued ruthlessly. “Or is it your father’s? Do you honestly think I need to waste my time negotiating withyou?”
His gaze flicked to Timothy.
“Call her father,” Magnus said sharply. “Tell him his daughter doesn’t want to sign the deal. The cooperation is now cancelled.”
At once, Celia’s face went white, as if all the blood had drained from it—like her soul had been ripped straight out of her body.
She panicked instantly, fumbling over her words. “Magnus— I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to meet you… to sit with you in your car—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish.
The engine roared, and the car surged forward.
Magnus drove off without a backward glance, leaving her standing there, fury choking her breath.
Celia’s fists clenched tightly at her sides as she stared after the disappearing car, her chest heaving.
“Ms. Thompson,” Timothy said stiffly, straightening. “You look perfectly fine now. You can get home on your own. I’ll be leaving first.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Turning sharply on his heel, he hurried away, leaving her standing alone under the streetlights.
Left alone, Celia stomped her foot against the pavement, her face twisted with rage.
‘Why is he pushing me away like this now?’ she thought bitterly. ‘We were friends for so many years in college.’
She folded her arms tightly across her chest, chin lifting in stubborn defiance. “I’ll never be as cold-hearted as you, Magnus,” she muttered.
Back then—just because she had suggested giving some of the projects he won to poorer-performing classmates—he had gotten angry. Furious, even. He had fought with anyone who supported her, refusing to back down.
She let out a harsh breath of disgust. “You won ten projects,” she said under her breath. “Would it really have hurt you to give a few to others?”
Her hands dropped slowly to her sides, eyes flashing with recollection.
“I finally freed myself from you,” she whispered. “Went overseas. Built my own life.” Her lips curled faintly. “Now that I’m back, I can finally be myself. I’ll show everyone how capable I am… and help more people.”
Just then, her phone buzzed.
She glanced down. A video call—from her office laptop.
Frowning, she answered.
The screen lit up, revealing two of her colleagues at her dad’s company, Yulia and Tina. Both wore tense, frustrated expressions, bodies rigid with agitation.
Yulia was petite, with sharp features and short, neatly styled hair that framed her face, giving her an efficient, no-nonsense look. Tina was slightly taller, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her eyes wide and earnest, as if every worry showed clearly across her face.
“Celia,” Yulia snapped immediately, voice sharp, “didn’t we tell you not to tell anyone about our new project? We didn’t want more people getting involved!”
