Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 257

Chapter 257 A Sudden Promotion

Chapter 257 A Sudden Promotion

A cold glint flashed in Irene’s eyes. Her fist clenched tightly at her side, knuckles white.

I swear, this fat pig deserves to rot.

She bit down hard, the metallic taste of fury filling her mouth.

The blow was a split second from landing.

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Just then, the heavy oak door of the conference room flew inward, slamming against the wall with a thunderous bang.

Samuel jerked, his hand freezing mid-air. Swiveling his head, he met the chilling, utterly emotionless red gaze of Quentin.

Margaret strolled in unhurriedly. Her eyes swept across the scattered mess on the floor before settling on Samuel’s jowly, quivering face,

“Throwing your weight around, aren’t we?” Margaret remarked, her hands tucked into her trench coat pockets. She tilted her head toward Tyrone. “Who’s the porker?”

Samuel’s initial outrage died in his throat. The moment he recognized the face plastered all over Starnet, his legs turned to jelly.

“Your G-Grace…” Cold sweat instantly soaked through his shirt.

Margaret didn’t even grant him a glance. Walking over to Irene, she gave her a quick once-over.

“You hurt?”

Irene shook her head. “No. What brings Your Grace here?”

As Margaret’s dedicated service liaison, Irene knew her profile well. It made no sense for the Regent, who should be swamped with her own crises, to appear here now.

“Looking for you.” Margaret jerked a thumb toward the cowering Samuel. “Quentin, toss this garbage out. Audit him. Find every dirty credit he’s pocketed and who helped him. Then deliver the whole lot to the Inspectorate.”

Quentin stepped forward, grabbed Samuel by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him out like a sack of potatoes. Piercing pleas for mercy echoed down the hall before being abruptly muffled, presumably by Aegis Squad.

Silence reclaimed the room.

Margaret pulled out a chair and sat, gesturing casually to the one opposite. “Take a seat.”

Irene didn’t hesitate. She sat down, spine straight, meeting Margaret’s gaze head-on without a trace of deference.

Margaret liked that spine.

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Mon, 6

Chapter 257 A Sudden Promotion

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“You heard about the three vacancies in the Cabinet yesterday. Minister of Finance, Chief of Internal Affairs, and a sinecure. I intend to keep the real power of all three positions firmly in my own hands,” Margaret began, cutting straight to the chase.

Irene’s brow furrowed slightly.

This was high-level political reshuffling. Why am I, a low-level department head, hearing this?

Margaret continued, leaning forward and lacing her fingers on the table, “But I need someone to do the actual work. A personal secretary. Someone to manage those three departments for me, untangle the financial mess, and take orders from me alone.”

Her eyes locked on Irene’s, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “You’re doing it.”

Irene was stunned.

Even for someone of her composure, the sheer scale of the offer was dizzying.

The core financial and administrative hubs of the Empire? Positions so lucrative they drown men in wealth, and so treacherous they drown them just as easily. And they are being offered to me? A commoner with no family backing, not even a minor title?

“Your Grace, you can’t be serious. I have no connections, no leverage. Even if you put me in that chair, Prince Darien and the old-guard nobles will eat me alive. It’s not just a hard job. It’s a suicide mission,” Irene said, her voice regaining its cool edge as she pinpointed the fatal flaw.

A smile touched Margaret’s lips.

Smart. She sees right through the glitter to the teeth underneath. No fool, this one.

“No connections? I’ll give you connections. No backing? My name is your backing,” Margaret stated, the casual words dripping with absolute audacity.

Irene fell silent, her gaze dropping to the table.

Watching her, Margaret tallied the potential incentives. She knew Irene’s pressure point: a younger brother with a genetic degenerative disease, astronomical medical bills. That was the only chink in her

armor.

The plan had been to dangle Cheiron’s name if Irene hesitated. A personal guarantee from the director at Central Hospital would cover all treatment, plus access to the Empire’s top-tier gene healing serums. Money was no object either.

Margaret opened her mouth, ready to mention Cheiron.

Suddenly, Irene reached up, yanked the service liaison ID badge from her lapel, and tossed it into a nearby waste bin with a definitive clatter.

“I’m honored by your trust. What materials should I prepare for tomorrow’s meeting?” Irene said, her tone steady as she looked back at Margaret,

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