Brandon froze, looking as if he hadn't fully processed her words.
He stared at Lillian. "What did you just say? What are you buying?"
Lillian turned, gesturing toward the dismantled machinery resting in the warehouse. "You just said you haven't found a buyer yet. I want the old equipment.
I'll hire an appraiser to set a fair price..."
Before she could finish, a fleet of sedans suddenly pulled up just a few feet away from them.
Lillian stood up. The people stepping out of the cars looked vaguely familiar, though time had clearly aged them.
Who were they?
As she tried to place them, the group stormed over.
But they weren't looking at Lillian.
They marched straight up to Brandon, their faces red with panic and anger. "Chairman Mercer! You shutting down this production line out of nowhere is one thing. But what about the contracts we already signed? You can't just pretend they don't exist!
We have no product now. This is a complete disaster.
If you're killing the factory and scrapping the lines, fine. But you owe us the breach of contract fees!"
Lillian finally recognized them. They were Grandmother's old business partners.
She hadn't recognized two of them immediately because they had aged quite a bit.
Listening to their furious demands, Lillian instantly understood why they had tracked Brandon down here.
Brandon had made this transition so abruptly that he hadn't given his long-term partners a second to brace themselves.
He had been so blinded by the massive profits Tristan was pulling in from her company's orders that he acted entirely on greed.
It was laughable. She hadn't said a word. She hadn't promised a single thing.
She was never returning to the Mercer family, yet they had already claimed her. They treated her achievements, her reputation, and her commercial value as their own personal leverage.


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