Claimed by the Powerful Billionaire (Charlotte and Matthew) novel Chapter 8

After leaving the jewelry store, Charlotte couldn’t shake the feeling that none of it was real.

Could it be a scam?

But the other party had agreed to wire the money first and take delivery after. That didn’t sound like a scam.

Charlotte called Ruby.

After hearing her out, Ruby didn’t think too deeply about it.

“Maybe they really fell in love with your treasure. And they’re scared you’ll change your mind and won’t want to sell it, so they deliberately offered a high price.”

Charlotte thought Ruby’s words made sense, so she stopped tormenting herself over it.

Fine. She’d just wait and see whether her account really got one and a half billion.

That afternoon, Charlotte arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early.

Purple Forest was a tea house.

The private room was filled with classical-style furniture. Dark carved hardwood, a traditional square table, and an elegant incense burner set out like a centerpiece.

Vintage palace lanterns cast a warm, steady glow. The whole space looked old-world and refined.

When Charlotte walked in, she saw a straight, rigid back.

He was facing away from her, as if admiring the calligraphy and paintings on the wall.

But he looked less like a viewer and more like someone who belonged inside the artwork—calm, commanding, carrying the effortless dominance of a man used to standing above everyone else.

“Hello. I’m the one Miss Morris arranged to meet with you. My last name is Smith.”

The man turned around.

For a few seconds, it felt like time stopped.

What made Charlotte stare wasn’t just his sharp, striking looks. It was the aura on him—like a king stepping into a room, the kind of presence that made people instinctively hold their breath.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Nathan Hall.”

Charlotte reached out without thinking. “Charlotte.”

Nathan stayed still for a few seconds. He didn’t move his hand.

Embarrassment pricked. Charlotte started to pull back.

Then his hand suddenly reached out and half-gripped hers.

His palm was warm. That warmth spread from her fingertips like a faint current.

It vanished as quickly as it came.

They sat down across from each other.

Nathan’s gaze held hers. “Should I call you Ms. Smith… or Mrs. Russell?”

Charlotte paused. “You know me?”

“Just heard a bit.”

Charlotte didn’t quite believe that.

She’d been married for three years, and Matthew had never taken her to a single business event. To anyone who didn’t know better, she might as well have been single.

“Just call me Ms. Smith,” she said. “It’s more comfortable.”

Nathan nodded. “Ms. Smith, why don’t we get straight to the point?”

Decisive. Direct.

She liked that.

Charlotte looked at him steadily. “How much are you planning to pay for my game?”

“Two billion. A full buyout.”

Charlotte smiled faintly. “Mr. Hall should’ve looked into my game already. It’s high freedom, immersive with zero pressure. Slow living, pastoral, healing. Once it launches, office workers will love it.”

“Based on my forecast, annual revenue won’t be lower than five hundred million. If sales are better, you could recover costs in three years.”

“And as long as you keep updating and maintaining it, the repurchase rate will be extremely high. Then you can release merch and extend the brand.”

“In the future, the revenue will far exceed two billion.”

The man’s long index finger slowly traced the rim of his teacup. His voice stayed calm, but there was a quiet severity under it.

“So what number do you have in mind, Ms. Smith?”

“Three billion.”

Nathan paused for a few seconds, then spoke slowly.

“What you just described is profit based on predictions. In reality, even if I spend two billion to buy it, I’m still gambling.”

“What if I lose?”

“You won’t,” Charlotte shot back. “I’m very confident in this game.”

Nathan watched her. “Ms. Smith, you seem very confident.”

Under his assessing gaze, Charlotte didn’t flinch.

“Of course.”

“Fine.” His thin lips parted. “Then three billion.”

Charlotte froze.

Just like that… he agreed?

No bargaining. No pushing the price down.

“But I have one condition,” he added.

Charlotte lifted her chin. “Say it.”

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