The tremors of Zayn's first directive, the sweeping audit, had barely settled in the opulent boardroom before the repercussions began. Minutes later, locked away in Tuan Carter's formerly imposing study, the air crackled with a desperate, frantic energy. Vanessa, her face a mask of fury and disbelief, paced the plush carpet like a caged predator. Dylan, sprawled on a leather armchair, looked utterly defeated, his earlier bluster replaced by a hollow stare.
"He can't do this," Vanessa hissed, her voice tight with suppressed rage. She stopped pacing, her emerald eyes blazing as she fixed them on her son. "He has no right to freeze our assets. Those are our accounts, Zayn’s own father’s… and ours."
"He does, Vanessa," Dylan mumbled, not meeting her gaze. "The audit is just starting, but he
