As Director Cox passed Grayson’s position, he paused. The military escort tensed, hands moving toward restraint devices. But Director Cox made no aggressive movements. He simply stopped, turned his head toward Grayson, and spoke.

MJ couldn’t hear the words from his position. But he could see the effect they had.

Grayson’s expression morphed into pure rage.

His pheromones became uncontrollable in the process.

MJ had experienced Grayson’s pheromones before, to some degree.

Even though he couldn’t smell it, it felt like he was being burdened by a heavy weight. It meant that the sheer volume of the pheromones in the room was so concentrated that even a Beta like him could feel it.

It crashed over the assembly hall, pressing down on everyone present with the weight of an apex predator’s dominance. Alphas hunched their shoulders instinctively. Betas struggled to breathe. The few omegas present were already on the ground, on the verge of fainting.

MJ felt his knees go weak. His instincts screamed at him to bow, to submit, to make himself as small and non-threatening as possible.

Everyone in the room was affected.

Everyone except one person.

Neville moved before MJ could even process what was happening. He crossed the distance between them with quick movements. His eyes were fixed on Grayson, which should be impossible to maintain under these circumstances.

He didn’t look affected at all. Not even a little bit of visible change in his expression.

Neville reached Grayson and, without hesitation, placed a hand on Grayson’s shoulder.

It was just a light touch and almost casual. But if it were anyone else, they would’ve lost their hand just by attempting to touch Grayson in that state.

When Grayson’s head turned to Neville, for a split second, MJ saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

The murderous expression didn’t fade immediately. But for one frozen moment, Grayson looked at Neville in the eyes with cold fury.

But then Neville’s hand moved.

His finger poked Grayson on the cheek.

He just poked him, as if nothing serious was happening there.

And then Neville grinned at Grayson. It was the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made the small red mole under his right eye dance.

His lips moved, forming words that MJ couldn’t hear from his position but could read well enough: "Look at me."

Or maybe it was: "Focus on me."

Or possibly: "Hey, Drama King."

Whatever the exact words were, their effect was immediate and profound.

The crushing pressure of Grayson’s pheromones didn’t just ease—it retreated like nothing had happened. Within seconds, the air in the assembly hall felt breathable again.

Alphas straightened.

Betas took deep, grateful breaths.

The omegas who had looked ready to faint slumped in her seat with visible relief.

Grayson’s expression softened. The murderous rage didn’t disappear entirely, but it was contained now.

Looked like a mental riot wouldn’t happen anymore.

Grayson looked at Neville, and something passed between them.

"Feeling better?" Neville seemed to have asked.

Grayson nodded wordlessly.

Then Neville nodded once and turned to walk back to the podium.

Colonel Vane saw that everything was already calm and controlled. He turned on his heel and marched toward the exit after getting out the criminals. His aide was scrambling to follow.

It was honestly comical.

MJ watched as Neville walked towards the podium, his mind was pondering on what had happened.

Chief McCartney murmured, "That old man probably told Mr. Maxwell the truth about his father."

MJ nodded in agreement since that was the only plausible thing that Director Cox could possibly say that would trigger Grayson.

The late Maxwell patriarch was a topic that no one in the company discussed openly—it was one of those unwritten rules that everyone learned quickly if they wanted to keep their jobs.

But Director Cox had clearly decided that if he was going down, he was going to take a bite on some psychological wounds with him. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Really, a detestable old man.

Neville reached the podium and paused for a moment, his hands resting lightly on its surface. He at the crowd with a composed expression.

"As I was saying," Neville said, "the Black Ocean Project remains on schedule. Phase One has been completed successfully, and Phase Two preparations are already underway."

MJ let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He didn’t know that he was that nervous earlier.

"We will not be deterred," Neville continued, his eyes sweeping across the assembly hall with calm certainty, "by those who would see this company fail."

The implied threat hung in the air.

MJ glanced around the room.

The remaining executives wore expressions that ranged from shell-shocked to calculating to genuinely terrified.

Junior employees looked like they had just witnessed a natural disaster and were still processing the fact that they had survived.

Neville seemed to notice the general state of the room. His eyes moved methodically across the sea of faces, taking in the exhaustion, the fear, the barely-contained anxiety.

"Given the... unexpected nature of today’s proceedings," he said in a dry understatement, "I believe we can conclude here. Departmental updates can be submitted through the usual channels. All pressing matters should be directed to Chief Secretary Stewart."

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened just slightly, noticeable enough without compromising his professional demeanor.

"Thank you all for your dedication to Maxwell Corporation. The coming months will require continued effort and vigilance, but I have every confidence in this team’s ability to rise to the challenge."

It was a good closing.

"This meeting is adjourned," Grayson said in finality.

The applause that followed was... complicated.

MJ clapped along with the rest, his hands moving in an automatic rhythm. Around him, the applause ranged from enthusiastic to perfunctory to barely-there.

Neville had stepped away from the podium and was speaking quietly with Bryan Stewart, the Chief Secretary. Their heads were close together, voices too low to carry, but their body language suggested a rapid exchange of information and instructions.

Bryan was nodding, his famous poker face firmly in place, but MJ caught the slight tension in his shoulders that suggested he was taking whatever Neville said very seriously.