Quentin felt Javier's burning gaze. He raised his eyes, meeting his brother's stare with a faint, detached look.
"Are you also unconvinced, Deputy General Manager?"
Javier clenched the documents in his hand until they were a wrinkled mess. The veins on his forehead pulsed with suppressed rage. Gritting his teeth, he spat, "Do you think the Harris Group belongs to you? It belongs to Grandpa! I'm going to tell him exactly how you are trying to force me out."
Quentin found the threat almost amusing. A cold smile played at the corners of his lips.
"Do you really think using Dad to threaten me is still effective? Let me teach you something, Javier: humans have many limitations. If you provoke me once, I can politely ignore it. But if you push past the second limit, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold back." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If I weren't concerned about the company's shares, everyone on that list would have been thrown in jail this morning."
Javier's expression darkened. "So you think that just by removing me from the office, you've won?"
Quentin shrugged and stood up, adjusting his vest with casual elegance. He leaned over the table, his eyes sharp as needles. "You're wrong. This is only the first step. Sit on the sidelines and wait quietly until it is your turn."
With a soft, chilling laugh, he turned and swept out of the boardroom. Secretary James waited a beat before hurrying after him.
Quentin checked his watch as they walked. "Is everything in place?"
"It's all done, sir," James replied. "Just waiting for your signal."
Quentin squinted slightly, his gaze fixed on the hallway ahead. "Do it. And launch the Garden Project officially this time."
"Yes, sir."
On the surface, the Harris Group appeared calm that day, but beneath the facade, a silent purge was underway. The "cleaning" of the company sent shockwaves through the departments—some resigned in fear, while others were quietly escorted away by the internal affairs team.
In the vacuum they left behind, employees who had once been invisible suddenly climbed to unexpected heights of power. From that day on, no one in the Harris Group dared to underestimate their President. He was a man of calm waters, but once he moved, he left a trail of destruction in his wake.
Javier returned to his office in a gloom, frantically smashing every object within reach.
"Damn it! Quentin, you cunning bastard!"
This defeat had dealt a severe blow to Javier's arrogance. Quentin had not just attacked him; he had systematically dismantled his power base within the company, leaving him with no room to maneuver.
Javier's secretary, Victor, stood by, watching the tantrum in silence. Finally, he stepped forward. "Mr. Harris..."
The title seemed to snap Javier's remaining sanity. He lunged forward, grabbing Victor by the collar and hoisting him up. "Victor, even you think that name is a joke now, don't you?!"
Born into the same family, working in the same company—yet when the world spoke of "General Manager Harris," they only ever meant Quentin.
Victor kept his eyes lowered. "No, sir."
Javier stared at Victor's expressionless face for a moment before shoving him away in disgust. "It's useless talking to you. Have you found out what I asked for?"
Victor adjusted his collar, his voice steady. "The mole has not been discovered yet."
A dark, twisted smile spread across Javier's face. "She played her part well this time. Contact her. I need every detail on the Garden Project."
He let out a sharp, mocking breath. Quentin might be powerful, but no matter how many weeds he pulled, he couldn't possibly find every underground stake Javier had planted.
Victor's eyes flashed; his hand, hidden within his sleeve, tightened slightly. "Yes, sir."
In a smaller meeting room dedicated to the Garden Project, Quentin looked over the remaining staff. His secretarial team had been cut by more than half, leaving only Gabby Moore, Vanessa Kyle, and three others.
He tapped the table, glancing at Secretary James. "Arrange for new hires immediately, James. Otherwise, you'll be the one working overtime for me next time."
James's lip twitched. Fire them all now, hire them all later—the boss loves his games. Internal complaints aside, James maintained a professional smile. "Yes, President."
Quentin cleared his throat, turning his attention to the group. "You are the team I've chosen for the Garden Project. I expect you to put in 200% of your ability to make this a success."
The room broke into applause. Carla Smith stood to the side, her eyes fixed on Quentin with undisguised fascination.
"Now," Quentin continued, "let's assign individual responsibilities."
An hour of intense planning followed. As the meeting concluded, Quentin gave the final order: "The Design Department will be assigned to Team A, led by Secretary Smith, to cooperate with the Kent Group. Meeting adjourned."
Carla Smith blinked, momentarily dazed by the mention of her name. She lowered her eyes, blushing slightly. Quentin caught the look but quickly withdrew his gaze, closed his laptop, and walked out.
The stormy day finally drew to a close. But at midnight, news broke from the Harris estate: the elder Mr. Harris had suddenly fainted in his study.
The rumor mill began to churn immediately: the Chairman had been driven to a stroke by Quentin's cold-blooded purge of the company.