New beginning: Billionaire love story

Chapter 322 A Message from Venus

description, entertaining rich folks." His voice was low, filled with sarcasm as if he was talking more to himself than anyone else.

Matthew leaned back against the wall, half-listening to the small crowd of rich guests laughing and chatting around him. His eyes scanned the room, and he let out a quiet sigh. This was not what he signed up for. He muttered under his breath, "Not exactly in the job Sandra, standing next to him, caught his words and smirked. "I heard that."

He sidled up to her and leaned in. "So, when do I get to hush these people away? Please tell me soon," he asked, voice low but dripping with sarcasm.

Sandra smiled at the guest who passed by her.

"It's your choice. You're the one in charge here."

Matthew grinned, his mischievous side kicking in. "Oh, then it's over," he said with a wink, turning toward the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," he called out, clapping his hands loudly to grab attention. "Thank you for your time, but our lovely host has some work to attend to. And by that, I mean she's locked in her office, working her magic."

A few of the guests chuckled, but most groaned good-naturedly, knowing it was time to wrap up. Matthew was about to make a smooth exit, satisfied with his performance when he spotted two familiar-and unwelcome-faces approaching.

Frank Potter and Robert Robertson.

Matthew's smile faded instantly, his face turning cold as he crossed his arms. "What do you want, Frank?" he asked, voice sharper than before.

Frank, ever the slimy businessman, smiled widely, but Matthew wasn't fooled by the friendliness. "Just wanted to pass along a little message for Claire. Tell her that Venus is going to outperform Metacortex. By a mile."

Matthew couldn't help but smirk, finding the comment amusing. "Oh, you mean to steal someone's idea and call it your own?" His words were slow, and mocking, and they hit a nerve.

Frank's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. "You know, Matthew," Frank said, his voice low, "you're just Claire's helper. When she finds someone more useful, she'll throw you away like yesterday's news."

"Unlike Robert Robertson here," he motioned to Robert, who stood awkwardly by Frank's side, "Claire will keep me around. I'm her right-hand man, Frank. Always have

fuming, Matthew strolled out of the

desk, her fingers drumming lightly on the wood as she watched the Q&A session from her press release earlier in the day. "Jeez, they were quick to upload this," she muttered, half-impressed, half-annoyed. On her second monitor, she scanned the latest news articles. Every outlet was buzzing with positive reviews about the robotic demonstration, praising Claire's vision

people were more interested in

the comments, Claire's eyes landed on a wild theory about the press conference: "That whole thing at the end was a skit! They staged

"Any updates on the woman?" he asked, his voice casual, but Claire knew better. He was

know that. She needed to keep her cards close. Adrian, of course, knew her skills, but Alexander? He had no clue. She preferred it that way. As she continued to scroll through her emails and articles,

worth it to dig into this, or let it go? she thought, biting her lip in

by the sound of her office door creaking open. She

situation out there?" Claire asked,

folks home," Matthew replied with a wink as he sank into the chair across from

raising an eyebrow. "Sidekick? Is that what you're calling yourself

better than 'helper."" He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "Frank Potter and his little pet, Robert, decided to stop by with a

me guess. Venus is going to dominate Metacortex,

tongue. "I told them to

tugged at the corner of Claire's lips. "They really think they're going

all an act," Matthew said, leaning forward. "The dude tried to get in my head, and said you'd ditch me for someone more useful." Claire laughed, a sound that caught even her by surprise. "Useful?

Matthew said, clutching his chest dramatically as if

expression getting darker by the

made both Claire and Matthew, who were in a conversation, whip

that phone call wasn't pleasant. He hung up with a huff, tossing his phone onto the nearby table a little harder than necessary. Both hands now on his hips,

eyebrow, unable to stop

like he was trying to keep from shouting again. "It's Claudia Wright," he practically