Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 180

"Let’s start now, shall we?" Dominic said, his voice smooth and sharp, as two guards pulled out a chair for him to sit on.

The chair scraped softly against the lacquered floor, the sound swallowed immediately by the suffocating silence in the room. Dominic moved with the measured calm of a man who understood the power of stillness, lowering himself onto the chair as though he had all the time in the world.

Grigor stood just behind him, with his hands clasped loosely, his face unreadable but his eyes restless, tracking every twitch of movement from the sixty men seated across them.

The men were predators. Even the moguls, warlords in suits, silk merchants turned billionaires, smugglers turned chairmen were all the same. Some leaned back with amused smirks, others sat forward with predatory stillness.

At the far end of the table sat the Chairman. His wiry frame and carved-stone face held the room in check. He did not move, nor did he need to.

One of the men to Dominic’s left slid a silver case across the polished table. With a flick, it snapped open, revealing cigarettes—long, imported, expensive. He plucked one and held it out toward Dominic, eyebrow raised.

Dominic didn’t even glance at it. "No."

The refusal cracked through the tension like a gunshot.

Grigor’s eyes flicked to him, sharp with surprise. Dominic never refused cigarettes in negotiations.

The man in the gray suit tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "You refuse? A cigarette is a sign of respect here."

Dominic finally turned his gaze, slow and deliberate, locking on the man with such cold precision that the words seemed to rot in his mouth. Dominic leaned back slightly, resting his forearm on the armrest. His voice dropped, steady and absolute.

"I promised my fiancée I won’t smoke." His eyes swept the table once, daring any of them to speak. "Now, business."

A ripple went through the room. Some smirked, some scoffed, and some narrowed their eyes at him. Dominic’s refusal had unsettled the balance immediately.

No one refuses a cigarette in their table. Some turned to the Chairman, waiting for him to say something.

The heavyset man with the diamond ring on his pinky chuckled darkly. "A man who lets a woman tie his hands shouldn’t sit at this table."

Grigor shifted, to move towards the man, but Dominic lifted a finger. silencing him without breaking eye contact with the man.

Dominic’s tone was calm, but venom wrapped every syllable. "A man who thinks loyalty is weakness has never been loved properly. Which explains why your chair is empty, even while you sit in it."

The room erupted with low laughter, cruel and cutting. The heavyset man’s face darkened with rage, but before he could slam his hand down, the Chairman raised his palm, and silence fell instantly.

The Chairman’s voice came like gravel dragged over stone. "Dominic Cross. You speak as if you already own this table, and I’m not seated right before you."

Dominic leaned forward slightly, his cufflinks catching the golden light. "I don’t speak as if I own it. I speak because I do. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have called me here. Neither would the rest of them."

Gasps hissed. Some exchanged sharp glances. Grigor’s lips twitched, and the faintest ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

Although he was acting based on the plot and his own benefit, he won’t deny the fact that he loved Dominic, and won’t let him get attacked under his watch.

A thin man with slicked hair sneered from Dominic’s right. "You walk in here, wearing your father’s crest, thinking the past means anything in Shanghai? Your father’s debts still stain his name. They stain yours also."

Dominic turned his head slowly. "My father’s debts were buried with him. And whatever is left on his name now, belongs to me. Which means I’ll decide how it ends. With ink, or with blood." he narrowed his eyes, and stared at the ceiling as if thinking, before adding. "Anything left on his name belongs to me. And I don’t leave my accounts open."

"Bold," the slick-haired man spat.

"Accurate," Dominic corrected, his voice cool as water over steel.

Murmurs rose again. Some were unsettled, and others were intrigued. The Chairman tapped a finger once on the table, hussing them.

The Chairman parted his lips. "You speak of debts, Dominic. But you came here to bargain, and not to bury the past. What is it you think you offer, that others cannot offer?" he huffed. "This whole long battle would end up you drop your pride."

Dominic leaned back, his posture loose but his eyes sharp, and predatory. He pushed the last sentence the Chairman said, like he heard nothing. "I’m not offering a price. I’m offering a future. The West is already bending. So many contracts have been signed, markets are shifting, and power is realigning. When the West bends, Asia does not stand alone. That is why I’m here. Not to beg, not to bow, but to give you a choice."

The silence thickened. Every man leaned in now.

Dominic’s voice lowered, razor-sharp. "Stand with me before the tide breaks. Or stand alone when it drowns you. Either way, history will remember who was offered a seat and who chose the floor."

The diamond-ring man shoved forward, slamming his palm on the table. "Arrogant bastard—"

Dominic’s voice cut through like a blade. "Raise your hand again at this table, and I’ll break it before your guards can blink."

The man froze. His guards tensed. The room went still again.

Grigor’s eyes glinted. He almost smiled.

For the first time, the Chairman leaned forward. Slowly, and deliberately, as he smiled. The smile was sharp, and dangerous smile.

"Dominic Cross," he said softly. "You remind me of a young me. Crazy ambitions, that cost me everyone, and even myself."

Dominic held his gaze without flinching. "I’m just ambitious, not crazy. I’m determined to end Carlos when the time is right."