The Yeaton residence.

Roland sat on the sofa, looking as if he had aged ten years overnight. His hair was a mess, his eyes were sunken, and he was smoking a cigarette, his expression a mixture of anger and resignation.

Mrs. Yeaton came downstairs, still unable to process how their perfectly fine company had suddenly been pushed to the brink of ruin.

Roland was on the phone. As soon as the call connected, he swallowed his pride and pleaded, "Hey, Leel, you finally answered. Can you give me a short-term bridge loan? As soon as my company is back on its feet, I promise I'll pay you back immediately."

"Mr. Yeaton, I'm really sorry, but I can't help you with this."

"Leel, for the sake of our friendship—"

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Yeaton." The person on the other end hung up.

Bang. Roland slammed his hand on the table and roared, "A bunch of ungrateful bastards! They used to call me brother, and now they either don't answer my calls or tell me they have no money. Damn them!"

Roland hadn't forgotten how these same people had been fawning over him just a few months ago.

Now, Yeaton Holdings was facing a flood of collection notices from banks. Its core assets were frozen, its stock price had hit rock bottom with over eighty percent of its market value evaporated, and suppliers and partners were camped outside the company demanding payment. Almost every escape route had been cut off.

He had no choice but to file for bankruptcy.

Mrs. Yeaton didn't dare say a word. Looking at her defeated husband, she knew he was out of options.

Roland slumped onto the sofa, his face a mask of bitter resentment. Just then, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen; it was an unknown number. Normally, he wouldn't bother with such calls, but now he snatched the phone. "Hello? Who is this?"

An elderly voice came from the other end. "Mr. Yeaton! Good evening!"

"You are?" Roland asked quickly.

"My name is Walden Wells. You should know me."

Walden Wells? The name immediately clicked in Roland's mind. Walden Wells, the CEO of Wells Technologies?

"Mr. Wells, hello, hello! Of course I know you. It's just that I've never had the pleasure of meeting you," Roland's voice immediately became friendly.

Walden Wells's voice held a note of sympathy. "Mr. Yeaton, you must be having a hard time. But I've heard some whispers, and I was wondering if you'd be interested."

"Please, go on," Roland said, suddenly tense. "Mr. Wells, whatever you have to say, just say it."

"The crisis at Yeaton Holdings runs deep. But from what I've heard, the person who wants to destroy your company is none other than the chairman of The Guild of

Commerce-lan."

The information hit Roland like a bolt of lightning.

lan?

How could it be him?

The man who had helped his company go public, who had opened up overseas channels for him, the. man he had considered his future son-in-law, the Yeatons' biggest backer?

Roland's expression changed dramatically, but he was still in disbelief. "That—that's impossible! Where did you hear this?"

Walden Welts chuckled coldly.

bet

"Roland, wish it were fake too, but

my source is very reliable. As for the

reason, I'm not quite sure 1

quite sure. That's all I

have to say. Take care, Mr. Yeatom

With that, Walden Wells hung up. Clearly, he didn't want to get involved in the

conflict between lan and the Yeatons.

Roland stood there, frozen, as if turned to stone.

"Roland? Roland, who was that? Was it someone who can help us?" Mrs. Yeaton rushed to his side, her face full of desperation.

Roland snapped back to reality, his bloodshot eyes filled with shock and the rage of betrayal.

"What's wrong? Roland, what's happened to you?" Mrs. Yeaton looked at her husband, startled. He looked like he wanted to kill someone.

"lan!" Roland roared.

"Mr. Goodwin? Is Mr. Goodwin going to help us?" Mrs. Yeaton asked eagerly.

Roland slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet, a cold sneer on his face. "Help us? He's trying to destroy us!"