Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 133: Charity

"Mr. Zethan, our stock has decreased by ninety percent since your company decided to pause the partnership with us," one of the CEOs said. His voice was shaky, but he tried to remain firm as he stood at the side.

Inside the large hall, CEOs from various countries and companies were seated, while this particular CEO remained standing as the meeting began. It had been days now, and Zethan hadn’t returned home. With each passing day, his coldness only seemed to intensify—as though every little thing fueled it more.

Lucas stood silently by the door, watching, while Zethan sat at the head of the main table, surrounded by other CEOs, as the man continued nervously.

"So, Mr. Zethan... my company and I are hoping you could please reconsider and return to our partnership, as outlined in the contract—"

Zethan chuckled softly, and the room immediately plunged into a tense silence.

Since his arrival, Zethan hadn’t spoken—only listened to the different proposals and pleas. But now, he chuckled. Not a laugh of amusement, but a soft, bored sound—the kind that says You’re wasting my time, but go on... Somehow, that soft chuckle was more terrifying than silence itself. It was soft and cold at once.

Then, Zethan finally spoke.

"What did the contract say?"

The man began to tremble as he replied, "It... it says that even if both parties signed the agreement, Party A has the right to withdraw at any time."

"No rush, then. Let’s begin with the basics....Who is Party A?" Zethan asked as he leaned back, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Y... your company, Mr. Zethan," the CEO responded with a respectful bow. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Zethan’s lips curled into a cold smile. "Very good. At least some brain cells are still intact. So, us pausing the partnership means we could return if we wanted to... or withdraw completely?"

The man nodded quickly. "Yes, Mr. Zethan. True. Very true."

Zethan’s voice cut through like ice. "Then you have no right to come here and demand that we return." He added, with one word:

"Out."

That single sentence struck the man harder than any blow. And the frightening part was—once Zethan had spoken, it couldn’t be undone. Even the remaining ten percent left in the company could be wiped away to nothing. Zethan had the power to bankrupt a company so thoroughly it wouldn’t be able to pay its own workers—let alone care for its own CEO.

The man bowed respectfully before turning toward the door, his body trembling slightly. The room grew even more silent, eyes wide with the realization that his fate now dangled by a thread—fragile and easily snapped with the wrong move. Once that word was said, just leave. Don’t say a word after.

Whispers stirred—low and cautious—until an older man finally stood. He was one of the most respected CEOs in the room, his presence alone demanding attention. His voice was calm, respectful, yet marked by the weight of years and experience.

"Mr. Zethan, it’s a pleasure to meet you," he began. "A true honor after such a long time. On behalf of the CEOs here, we were all surprised—pleasantly, of course—to learn that you would be attending this emergency meeting. We hope we haven’t wasted your undress—"

Zethan interrupted coldly, "Get straight to the point. No need for chit-chat."

The room once again fell into silence as the old man adjusted slightly, his face slightly embarrassed.

"Very well," he said. "There is an auction scheduled for two weeks from now. It requires billions—billions of dollars—and we’d like to propose a partnership with you. This auction is exclusive to the elite, and the profits, Mr. Zethan, will far outweigh any losses."

Zethan smiled softly, almost casually, yet something in his gaze made the room hold its breath.

"Why billions?" he asked quietly. "Why not millions?"

The man stiffened before responding, "Because this auction is for high-ranking officials. People of influence and immense wealth."

Zethan tilted his head slightly, his voice still low. "Why not make it a charity auction?"

The man froze. The question had caught him completely off guard. That wasn’t the kind of inquiry he had expected—not from someone like Zethan. Not just him, but the whole hall was surprised—they had expected something entirely different.

Mr. Zethan had really changed... just as the rumors said.

He hesitated before answering. "We... we plan to do a charity event after this one is complete," he said, choosing his words carefully.

Zethan seemed intrigued. "And what exactly are your plans for the items? To sell them at the auction—or give them away for free?"

The man fell silent.

He knew his words were being recorded. Anything he said could—and likely would—be used against him, especially in Zethan’s hands. So he said nothing more. Not because he had nothing to say, but because saying it to Zethan meant being bound to it.

And that was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

Now, the man stood there, speechless. He had no more words left—nothing to say, nothing to hold onto. Silence wrapped around him like a noose.

Then Zethan spoke quietly, his voice calm yet cold. "Do you have any special conditions?" he asked flatly, placing his hands gently on the table. He stretched his fingers slowly, the sound of his fingers tapping against the table like a quiet threat.

The man shook his head.

Zethan’s gaze sharpened as he tilted his head. "Any special treatments? Stage fright? Stress disorder? Soot, perhaps... Mr. CEO?"

The man opened his mouth, uncertain. But before he could speak, Zethan said again:

"Out."

That single word sealed his fate. Eyes widened. Lips shut.

The man bowed respectfully and whispered, "Mr. Zethan... I beg you. Please. This auction—it means everything to me and my company."

Zethan’s lips pressed into a line. But the man had already gone silent. He had crossed a line. Rarely did anyone speak back to Zethan. Once he said leave, that was it—no debate, no questions. Just bow and go, if you wanted to walk away with dignity.

Yet somehow, today, Zethan did nothing more.

Perhaps he was in a good mood.

Without a word, he extended his hand. Lucas understood instantly and stepped forward, handing him his tablet. Zethan took it and nodded slowly, eyes lifting to meet the man’s one last time.

"I’ll see what I can do about your company," he said, voice quiet but clear.

The man’s eyes widened as Zethan added, "You may take your seat."

Gasps filled the room. Shock rippled through the crowd. No one had expected this—Zethan showing leniency? Compassion? Maybe the rumors were true after all... that he wasn’t as cold as before. Yet just moments ago, his presence had chilled the room like ice.

Then suddenly, a soft ping echoed from the old man’s phone.

Zethan, still calm, said, "You may check it."

The man smiled nervously, pulling out his phone. His eyes darted across the screen. Two notifications: one from his bank, the other from his company.

He clicked the bank alert first.

His eyes widened. His lips trembled. His account... was empty.

Bankrupt.

He looked up, heart racing. "Mr. Zethan—"

"Go home old man. After all, charity begins at home," Zethan said sharply.

The man stood frozen, his mind trying to process what had just happened. His company... destroyed in seconds. A single command, and everything was gone.

Mouth open, yet unable to speak—it was as if water had pooled behind his lips, drowning the words. Silently, trembling, he turned and walked out in shock.

Then Zethan rose.

"Meeting dismissed," he said coolly, already walking toward the door, Lucas following behind.

Zethan entered the elevator, the doors closing behind him with a soft ding. As it descended, a small sigh escaped his lips. The weight of the silence pressed against him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of how much he missed his wife.

"Just a few more days," he muttered under his breath, as if trying to convince himself the wait was bearable. His fingers drummed lightly against his side, each passing floor intensifying the longing in his chest.

The elevator pinged softly as it reached the ground floor. Zethan stepped out, his movements purposeful yet restrained. Lucas was already waiting at the door. As Zethan approached, he opened it without a word. Zethan slid into the car, and Lucas swiftly closed the door behind him, returning to his seat with practiced calm. The car rumbled to life, and they were off.

Zethan leaned back, staring out the window as the city passed by in a blur. "Any reports today?" he asked, his voice low but expectant.

Lucas nodded, hands steady on the wheel. "Yes, Mr. Zethan. It seems Mrs. Lilia has taken the gardening duties quite seriously. She’s been eating well and sticking to her exercise routine. Morning jogs as usual."

Zethan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Good. Keep me updated."

Lucas continued, "She’s also eating more, it seems. She’s taking care of herself properly."

Zethan nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. He picked up his tablet and began typing, his fingers moving with ease.

"Uh..." Lucas hesitated, deciding to stay silent.

Zethan’s face darkened. "Spill it."

Then Lucas finally spoke, his voice soft. "It seems Mrs. Lilia spends more time at the library, too."

Zethan raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What does she do there?"

Lucas glanced at him briefly, then focused on the road. "She’s been reading a particular book."

Zethan’s gaze sharpened as he set his tablet down. "Send me a copy of it. I’d like to read it as well."