Surrounded by senior executives, Chelsea stepped into the elevator and turned to the vice president. "Are there still some who haven't arrived?"
"Yes," Thoren, the vice president, responded respectfully, but with a hint of casualness. "Versta and some of the useless senior member are putting on airs, trying to give you a hard time."
"Is that so?"
Chelsea's expression remained unchanged, her presence radiating a natural chill. "Times have changed. How can my uncles be so blind?"
Versta, along with five directors, sat in the conference room, lounging in their chairs, sipping tea. They appeared nonchalant, but in truth, they were anxious.
"Where is she?" Versta, sitting in the chairman's seat, his round face showing impatience, instructed his secretary, "Go check."
"Versta, don't worry. She'll come eventually. New officials always put on airs. It's just a show," Stuart, wearing a casual suit and fingering a string of prayer beads, comforting Versta indifferently.
Versta shook his head. "Young people today have no respect for time. When she arrives, speak your mind. The Bromley Group is still our family's business, and I make the decisions."
As the old foxes were plotting how to intimidate the new major shareholder, the secretary hurried back, pale and flustered.
"Chair Bromley, the new CEO has already gathered the management in another conference room. The meeting is nearly over..."
"What?!"
The once composed old men stood up, slamming the table in anger. "We are the ones who built this company! How dare he ignore us!"
Show some manners!
The secretary, trembling, added, "It's not a man... It's a woman."
The old men were taken aback. "A woman?!"
Just as Chelsea announced the meeting's adjournment, Versta and Stuart burst in with their entourage, faces full of anger, which quickly turned to shock upon seeing Chelsea. "Chels... how can it be you?!"
Versta and Stuart had prepared for every possibility but were stunned to find that the wealthy savior who resurrected the Bromley Group and bought 51% of its shares was their niece!
Wasn't she... wasn't she dead?
Three years ago, the Bromley family's daughter, Chelsea, had fallen off a cliff while climbing, and her body was never found. The family held a grand funeral, and Versta and Stuart took over the Bromley Group, dividing Chelsea's assets and shares. Who could have imagined that the supposedly dead woman would return so suddenly?
Chelsea savored the shock on their faces, lazily leaning back in her chair, raising her eyelids slightly. "Uncle Versta, Uncle Stuart, I'm back. Surprised?"
Her words jolted them into reality. Their faces quickly changed as they looked at Chelsea, tears of excitement flowing, eager to embrace her.
"Chels, you're alive! Your parents would be so happy..."
Chelsea slid her chair back, her face showing a hint of distaste. She looked at them coolly, her voice carrying an unmistakable hardness. "I'm sure they would be."
Versta and Stuart, pinned by Chelsea's cold gaze, were at a loss for words.
Chelsea had no intention of rekindling old sentiments. She turned to the senior executives, whose expressions varied, and said, "You all know my style and temperament. Now that I'm back, I won't let the Bromley Group languish. The company my parents built will be protected by me. Stay focused and do your jobs well, and you will not be mistreated."
...
Meanwhile, in Veloria.
Altsin was on his way back from picking up Blake from the hospital. He gripped his phone tightly, his voice heavy with displeasure. "You mean to tell me there's no trace of her? What are you doing?"
His assistant, trembling on the other end of the line, had combed through every possible surveillance feed within hundreds of miles but found no trace of Chelsea. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.
Swallowing nervously, the assistant reported, "However, Madam's background checks out. She really is a rural girl from Qobares, and her parents did die from illness."
Altsin's long fingers tapped on his knee, his expression cooling. So, it seemed he was overthinking it.
Blake, sitting weakly beside Altsin, remarked, "A girl from the countryside, left with nothing. Quite unique, isn't she, Altsin?"
Altsin frowned, a hint of mockery crossing his mind as he thought of the quiet, reserved woman—perhaps she wanted to appear unique.
"Sir, I've sent someone to Qobares to search. Maybe Madam returned home."
"No need to search," Altsin said coldly. "We're divorced. There's no need for further ties. If she chose to leave with nothing, let her."
"...Understood. Oh, one more thing—business-related."
Sensing his boss's impatience, the assistant quickly clarified that it was a work matter.
"Speak."
"The Bromley family is in some turmoil. The mysterious person who revived the Bromley Group showed up, and it's said that... the Bromley family's eldest daughter has returned."
Altsin raised an eyebrow. The Bromley family's eldest daughter? Wasn't she supposed to be dead three years ago?