Chapter 289

Camille Hartwell now officially held shares in Vertex Dynamics. She had arrived early for a meeting with Damien Harrington.

"Hello, Camille." Giselle approached with a sly smile, casting a sideways glance at Phoebe before whispering, "She was gloating about receiving flowers, but I shut her down by mentioning how many bouquets you've gotten—and that Damien transferred company shares to you. She had nothing to say after that."

Camille glanced at Phoebe but remained silent.

Giselle smirked. "You told me Gabriel doted on her, but all he did was send flowers on Valentine’s Day."

Camille arched a brow.

Was that truly all Gabriel had done? If so, it was a pitiful effort. Phoebe held significant influence at NovaSight Labs, but without an official position or shares, it was meaningless.

Now that Camille could compare herself to Phoebe, she realized things weren’t as she’d imagined. If Gabriel truly valued Phoebe, he would’ve given her more than just hollow authority.

Cedric Dunmore approached with a knowing smile. "Now that you hold shares, will you take charge of Vertex Dynamics?"

She flicked a glance at Phoebe. "No. I’ll leave it to the professionals. Power-hoarding isn’t my style."

Phoebe was incompetent yet meddled in everything just to flaunt her so-called authority at NovaSight Labs. The irony was laughable—she had no real position or stake in the company.

Meanwhile, Phoebe remained focused on her work, undisturbed by the earlier exchange. Her phone buzzed—a message from Graham Bellamy.

"Pick me up tomorrow night."

Last week, he’d mentioned someone wanting to meet her. This was likely the reason.

She typed back, "Understood, Mr. Bellamy," then tucked her phone away and resumed working.

The next evening, Phoebe and Gabriel arrived at the restaurant with Graham. As they stepped out of the car, they spotted Marcus Mercer and Hugh Rhodes.

Phoebe had expected strangers, not familiar faces.

"Mr. Mercer, Mr. Rhodes," she greeted politely.

They nodded warmly, exchanging pleasantries before turning toward the entrance—until a voice called out behind them.

"Leaving so soon? No one’s waiting for me?"

Phoebe turned, stunned. The man approaching was a high-ranking official from the Department of Defense.

Graham’s expression tightened. "This is Graham Bennett."

Though known for his intimidating presence in interviews, Graham Bennett now wore a warm smile. He extended a hand. "You must be Phoebe. I’ve heard much about you."

She shook his hand. "It’s an honor."

Just as she spoke, another figure emerged from a nearby car—a face frequently seen on national broadcasts.

Graham’s voice turned icy. "That’s Hugh Rhodes."

Phoebe greeted him, but before she could say more, a familiar voice cut in.

"Father?"

Everett Mercer stepped out of his car, eyes widening at the gathering of powerful figures—and Phoebe standing among them.