?<strong>Chapter 1011:</strong>


    “Talk is cheap, Luka. Does the Calderon family even have the means to purchase an entire office building?”


    A cold, dangerous light shed in Waylon’s eyes. “It’s just an office building, Miss Grey. I’m his nephew, and gifting it to my uncle is hardly extravagant. Instead of worrying about us, perhaps you should consider where yourpany will move next.”


    With Waylon’s years of fame and the weight of his position in the Johns family, securing the building for his uncle was as effortless as snapping his fingers. Realization crept across Lina’s face, her arrogance cracking slightly under the pressure.


    Beside her, Ailyn’s delicate brows furrowed, her displeasure evident. While she held Lina in little regard, her disdain for the two men before her was stronger, particrly Waylon. He might have been good-looking, but his eyes and sharp tongue reminded her of the woman who had had a car ident with her.


    Lifting her chin, Ailyn swept a haughty gaze over Luka and Waylon before turning to Lina. “Miss Grey, I’ve always valued the camaraderie of fellow designers, and you are my first coborator here in Lorpond. To show goodwill, I’ll purchase this office building for you and yourpany’s use.”


    Her words were calcted—an attempt to bolster Lina while subtly striking at Timeless Elegance.


    Waylon’s brow furrowed. Ailyn’s statusplicated matters, and he couldn’t respond as bluntly as he had with Lina.


    “Miss Vettel, I must admit, I’m perplexed. You traveled all the way from Mafelen to Lorpond seeking coboration, yet you chose Orly Company—a brand once notorious for giarism. Isn’t that tarnishing your own reputation?”


    Ailyn’s face twitched slightly as she nced at Waylon, wary of letting him see through her facade.


    Recovering quickly, she replied, “Before partnering with Miss Grey, I thoroughly researched Orly Company. Mr. Johns, I understand your desire to protect your uncle’spany, but just because there are only a few simr brands here in Lorpond—and yourpany was established earlier—it doesn’t mean you can throw around baseless usations of giarism.”


    Waylon hadn’t anticipated such an oundish deration. He cast a sharp nce at Ailyn and let out a derisive, almost mockingugh.


    “Miss Vettel, if you can’t tell the difference between giarism and originality, then there’s really nothing left for me to say. If you’re so desperate to buy the office building, go right ahead. Let’s see who can actually get it!”


    Ailyn had never been so humiliated in public. First, it was that woman from Lorpond, and now it was Waylon. Her eyes burned with restrained fury, but she refused to let it crack herposure.


    Both she and Waylon had wealth to spare—spending a fortune on a building wouldn’t bring her any satisfaction, even if she won.


    If they were going topete, it had to be over something far more meaningful.


    .


    .


    .