Reborn with the Fate Reversal System

Chapter 6

The evening air outside the Grand Metropolitan Hotel was crisp, but the heat of a thousand camera flashes made the red carpet feel like a furnace. Zayn stepped out of his black sports car, adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal-grey suit, and felt the familiar weight of a hundred judgmental eyes.

In his past life, this was where he usually tripped—metaphorically or literally. He would have arrived half-drunk, his tie askew, looking for Lily or a distraction from the suffocating pressure of his father’s expectations. Tonight, he was a different man.

System, status update on target: Scarlett Hayes, Zayn thought, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Target: Scarlett Hayes, the cold, digital voice resonated in his mind. Current Location: Ballroom center. Vital Signs: Elevated stress levels. Heart rate: 95 BPM. Current Situation: Surrounded by the 'Vulture Consortium' led by Julian Hayes. Calculated probability of Hayes Group collapse within six months: 88 percent.

A translucent window hovered in the corner of Zayn’s vision, displaying a graph that looked like a jagged mountain range plummeting into a canyon.

Warning, Host: Scarlett Hayes is currently being pressured to sign a liquidity waiver. If she signs, she loses control of her board by midnight.

"Not on my watch," Zayn murmured, stepping toward the grand entrance.

"Well, if it isn't the pride of the Carter family," a voice sneered from his left.

Zayn stopped and turned. It was a man named Harrison, a mid-level investor who used to laugh the loudest when Zayn was being humiliated in the old timeline. He was holding a glass of champagne, his face flushed with the arrogance of a man who thought he knew exactly where the social hierarchy stood.

"Harrison," Zayn said, his voice flat and disinterested.

"I heard you had a bit of a breakdown this morning, Zayn. Scaring your poor stepmother? Kicking doors? You really should watch the temper. People might think you’re finally losing that fragile little mind of yours."

Zayn took a step closer. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look angry. He just looked through Harrison, as if the man were made of glass. "The only thing I’m losing, Harrison, is my patience for people who talk about things they don't understand. Why don't you go find a corner? You’re blocking the path of someone who actually has work to do."

Harrison’s mouth dropped open. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the 'trash' of the Carters talking back to him. Before he could sputter a response, Zayn was already gone, moving through the gilded doors of the ballroom with a predatory grace.

The ballroom was a sea of silk, diamonds, and expensive lies. At the center of it all, standing like a statue of carved ice, was Scarlett Hayes. She was wearing a midnight-blue gown that shimmered like the deep ocean. Her hair was pulled back into a sharp, elegant bun, and her face was a mask of professional indifference. But Zayn saw the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.

He started toward her, but a wall of black suits intercepted him.

"This is a private circle, Mr. Carter," a man said, his voice dripping with condescension. It was Marcus, Scarlett’s personal assistant and, in the future Zayn remembered, the man who would eventually leak her private accounts to the press.

"I need to speak with Scarlett," Zayn said.

Marcus let out a short, mocking laugh. "The CEO is currently in a high-level negotiation with the board and major investors. She doesn't have time to discuss your latest club tab or whatever 'urgent' matter the Carter family playboy is dealing with today. Please, move along."

The investors surrounding Scarlett turned their heads, noticing the commotion. A few of them smirked. One of them, a man with a thinning hairline and a shark-like grin, leaned in toward Scarlett.

"Is this one of your associates, Scarlett? I thought the Hayes Group had higher standards for their guests."

Scarlett’s eyes flicked toward Zayn. They were as cold as the system had described—sapphires frozen in a blizzard. There was no recognition there, only a flicker of annoyance. "He is not an associate. Marcus, handle it."

"You heard the lady," Marcus said, placing a hand on Zayn’s chest to shove him back. "Out."

Zayn didn't move. He felt the phantom pain of the bullet hole in his chest again, a reminder of what happens to those who are too weak to fight back. He looked past Marcus, directly into Scarlett’s eyes.

"Project Aethelgard," Zayn said.

The name was barely more than a whisper, but in the crowded room, it hit Scarlett like a physical blow. She froze. The glass in her hand didn't shatter, but for the first time, her mask cracked.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"Marcus, get him out of here!" the shark-like investor barked, sensing the shift in the air. "He’s obviously drunk."

"I said," Zayn continued, stepping around Marcus’s outstretched arm with an effortless pivot, "that your Project Aethelgard isn't just failing. It’s been compromised from the inside. The supply chain in Southeast Asia? It’s not a delay. It’s a ghost. Your Uncle Julian sold the patents to the Meridian Group three nights ago."

The silence that fell over the circle was deafening. Julian Hayes, who was standing just behind Scarlett, turned a shade of grey that matched his hair.

"That’s enough!" Julian yelled. "Security! Get this lunatic out of here!"

Two large men in suits began to converge on Zayn. He didn't flinch. He kept his eyes locked on Scarlett.

"Five minutes, Scarlett," Zayn said. "That’s all I need to save your company. If I’m lying, you can have your guards break my legs. But if I’m right... you’re going to need a new board by tomorrow morning."