Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO-Chapter 383: A stillness of the air before the thunder booms.

After Beca left, Catrin remained seated for a long time.

The servers came and went, quietly placing the dishes on the table before disappearing into the background.

Yet, neither their presence nor the aroma of the food stirred her from her silence.

Minutes passed, and then an hour.

The dishes remained untouched. And eventually, Catrin rose to her feet and left.

Her expression was unreadable. It was hard to tell what was going on in her mind, but there was surely something. The dark glint of her gaze was enough to evidence it.

***

In New York, it was already late in the afternoon.

After the meeting ended on the last day, it sent shockwaves through the corporate world.

Winslow Global wasn't just any company —it was a global powerhouse, a conglomerate that dominated multiple industries across continents.

So, when the news of the mass resignation of its board of directors broke, it sent the financial world into a frenzy.

The stock prices of the company plummeted.

Several high-profile investments were withdrawn, while other major investors demanded answers.

Speculations ran wild.

Was Winslow Global collapsing?

Had the power struggle within the company finally spiralled out of control?

Was President Winslow losing his grip?

But through it all, Aiden remained silent.

Despite the pressure mounting from every side, he refused to release a statement.

If anything, it almost seemed like he was deliberately allowing the chaos to brew.

A sudden knock at the office door made Aiden pause.

"Come in," he affirmed, and soon after, pushing the door open, Emyr walked in.

As he approached, he reported, "Sir, a few investors have withdrawn already.

His brows were furrowed —not in concern, but in something that looked eerily like amusement.

Aiden, who was seated behind his desk, didn't even glance up.

While signing his name at the bottom of a document, he simply said, "You know what you have to do, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Emyr nodded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Everything was happening exactly how they had predicted.

Or rather —

It was unfolding exactly as they had planned.

Too bad … not everyone could understand it.

————

Elsewhere, in a lavish and expansive private room, a group of men sat around an opulent mahogany table, toasting to their supposed victory.

Some clinked their glasses together, grinning with satisfaction.

Others simply raised their drinks, quietly reveling in the downfall they believed they had orchestrated.

These were no other but the few members of the Board of Directors who had resigned and the investors and suppliers who had decisively pulled out their investments and chains of supplies to put the pressure on the Winslow Globals —most importantly Aiden.

The air was thick with arrogance and the scent of whisky.

Then, a voice cut through the chatter.

Old Mr. Dickens leaned back in his chair, his wrinkled fingers tapping against his glass as he let out a low scoff.

"Your son overestimated himself, Dafydd," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

"He actually thought he could stand against us —against the old foxes? Laughable." His lips curled in disdain. "If I had wanted, I could have swallowed him whole without leaving a single trace. Not even his ancestors would have been able to find him."

The room filled with low chuckles —men basking in their own self-importance.

Any other man would have bristle at the blatant insult. But Dafydd Winslow did not.

Instead, he leaned back leisurely, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his glass, a smirk ghosting over his lips.

Taking a slow sip, he said smoothly. "His is still young, Uncle Dickens. Don't be too harsh on him. After all, …" his smile widened just a fraction, " …he is still my son."

"Hmph," Old Dickens snorted, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "He is your son, and that's the only reason I am holding back. Otherwise —" His voice deepened, dark with threat. "After the way he dared to threaten me in front of everyone, even if your father had come begging, I wouldn't have let it slide."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

A mocking glint flashed in Dafydd's eyes.

His father? Begging?

The old man sure knows how to talk high and mighty about himself.

Did he really think himself to be that capable?

For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to size Dickens up from head to toe. And his mind scoffed at the delusion, but his expression remained calm.

In a blink, the mockery vanished, replaced by a blank, unreadable gaze.

Dafydd lowered his gaze to his glass, his fingers running idly over the rim. If the old man was still not the pawn that he needed to deal with Aiden, he wouldn't have hesitated to correct him.

But then, every dog has a day …

Let him celebrate today, there will always be a tomorrow.

While Mr. Dickens was finally feeling satisfied after venting his annoyance, there were a few of them who sat worriedly, unable to enjoy the celebration to the fullest. Their glasses sat untouched while their posture tensed.

When Old Dickens noticed their expression, he frowned. His voice turned slightly sharp as he spoke in a somewhat chiding tone. "What's wrong with you three? Why do you look like you are sitting on ticking bombs?

Two men awkwardly shook their heads, avoiding his gaze. But one of them, gathering his courage, finally spoke —

"I feel we are being hasty in celebrating the victory that has yet to come."

At his words like that, the room fell into momentary silence.

People exchanged looks … before bursting into snobbish laughter.

"Hasty?" Mr. Dickens repeated, his voice dripping with superiority. "Seeing how the situation has turned out to be, do you have doubts about our victory? If so, why not go and check the company's situation once? In a span of just a night, it has lost all the merits that once made it invincible."

Even though he said that, the man didn't feel at ease. Not knowing how to explain his fear, he put it in the terms that were the simplest for understanding.

"I fear the silence that we are mistaking as the acceptance of defeat isn't simple. It feels more like a stillness of the air before the thunder booms."