Chapter 204: "Calm Your Tits"

Bellini Media’s office had the atmosphere of a workplace celebrating a major victory that morning.

Nearly every employee who arrived looked thoroughly hungover, which was hardly surprising.

They had spent most of the previous evening celebrating the unthinkable scandal they’d managed to orchestrate — at what was arguably one of the most high-profile events in Borgata’s recent history.

By the time the senior production team gathered inside the conference room, pride had largely overcome their collective hangovers.

"Dude, can you believe how easily we pulled off the biggest scandal Borgata has seen in ten years?" one team member said as he strolled into the room.

"We should get an award for this," another replied with a laugh, dropping into a chair at the long meeting table.

"And did you see Jeremiah Castellano’s face when the screen switched?" someone else added with a sneer. "For once, the lunatic actually looked speechless."

"We should include that shot in the evening program," one suggested.

"No way." One woman quickly shushed him, her gaze darting knowingly toward the head of the table. "Our Lady Lucilla would never allow that. Right?"

At the head of the long table, Lucilla Bellini had already taken her place by the time her team arrived.

Unlike her employees, however, she showed no evidence whatsoever of the previous night’s celebration.

Her ginger hair was immaculately styled, her lipstick a flawless red, and a designer pair of sunglasses concealed her eyes.

When the entire team turned toward her, Lucilla finally removed her sunglasses and set them elegantly on the table.

"Oh, dear," she said, looking almost offended. "I couldn’t possibly say whether I’d allow such a thing, darlings."

A deeply satisfied smile curved across her lips.

"Though... I must admit, seeing the spectacular Jeremiah Castellano struck speechless for once in his life was quite the once-in-a-lifetime spectacle."

As though on cue, laughter erupted around the table, everyone reacting as if she’d just delivered the most charming remark anyone had made all morning.

Lucilla basked in it, looking perfectly pleased with herself.

Once the laughter subsided, however, one of the team members glanced at his phone and frowned.

"But, um... Lady Lucilla?"

He scratched his cheek uncertainly.

"Something’s a little strange. The production-booth team never reported back to the office yesterday. They didn’t come to the party last night either."

"The guys escorting them did text that everything had been taken care of," another employee replied casually, checking her own messages. "But... yeah. I don’t see any of them here today."

Lucilla dismissed the concern with a lazy flick of her fingers, already looking bored.

"Leave them be. They’re probably busy relocating those sacrificial pawns to the secondary company I promised them."

Then her boredom vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the sharp, predatory smile of a media queen preparing for her next conquest.

"Now, shall we discuss today’s agenda?"

Her lips curled elegantly.

"Or perhaps the better question is... how do we turn the Ariana Lombardi scandal into the most unforgettable broadcasting event in Borgata’s recent history?"

Before anyone could volunteer an answer, hurried footsteps thundered down the corridor, drawing everyone’s attention to the door.

When the door burst open, one of Lucilla’s assistants stumbled inside, drenched in sweat and breathing as though he’d sprinted there for his life.

"Lady Lucilla!" he shouted, his face deathly pale. "You’ve got to come with us right now! There’s a huge problem requiring your immediate attention!"

Lucilla calmly straightened in her chair as though preparing for a magazine photograph.

"Calm your tits."

Her eyes traveled critically over his disheveled appearance.

"Do you have any idea how catastrophically unfashionable you look right now? What is it? Speak slowly and fashionably."

For one extraordinary second, the assistant looked as though he might actually flip the conference table.

"There’s no time to be fashionable, my lady!"

He rushed forward and slammed both palms onto the table.

"Accardi Bank just served us notice that we’ve violated a clause in our loan agreements! They’re demanding immediate repayment of the entire outstanding balance. Our credit lines are locked, and the controlled accounts are restricted until this is resolved!"

Every trace of Lucilla’s queenly composure vanished as though it had never existed.

The elegant posture disappeared.

The carefully cultivated expression disappeared.

Even the languid boredom of a woman perpetually unimpressed by the world was wiped clean from her face, leaving behind naked disbelief.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" she spat, nearly spraying saliva across the table.

The assistant grabbed his hair with both hands.

"Goodness, my lady! I’m saying Accardi Bank has restricted Bellini Media’s accounts and is demanding full debt repayment! The notice came through at eight this morning!"

Something seemed to crack behind Lucilla’s eyes.

"Accardi Bank?"

For several long moments, she simply stared at the assistant, trying to determine what could possibly have triggered a financial disaster severe enough to dethrone her in her father’s eyes.

’No way.’

’Who the fuck authorized this?’

’Isaac Accardi?’

Her brow furrowed.

’Wait, no. That doesn’t make sense.’

’He has no reason to do that.’

’Could it be...’

Her eyes widened.

’...Isidore Accardi?’

The thought was so absurd that she nearly dismissed it outright. Yet, the possibility was real enough to make her manicured fingers curl into the fabric of her designer skirt.

’He’s throwing a tantrum over Ariana Lombardi?’

’No. That can’t be.’

’Isn’t she just some sex toy he purchased for fun?’

’Who the fuck launches a financial attack on this scale over some mere sex toy?’

Unable to arrive at any sensible explanation, Lucilla finally forced her mind back into motion — and reminded herself that she was supposed to be the queen of this room.

She shot upright from her chair and jabbed a finger directly at the assistant’s face, her voice cracking across the conference room.

"Set up a fucking meeting with Accardi Bank! Chairman, vice chairman, director — I don’t give a fuck who! Get someone with the authority to reverse this ridiculous bullshit in a room with me."

The assistant wasted no time retreating toward the door.

"Y-yes, my lady! I’ll arrange it immediately!"

The moment he disappeared, an eerie silence descended over the meeting room.

Every face that had been glowing with triumph and anticipation only minutes earlier was now shadowed by dread.

If all the company’s accounts were frozen...

Who was going to pay their salaries?

The thought seemed to occur to everyone at once. Each employee silently began calculating what Bellini Media’s sudden financial paralysis might mean for them personally.

Before anyone could dwell on it for long, Lucilla’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp enough to make several shoulders jump.

"You."

She jabbed one finger at the senior team member seated closest to her.

The woman immediately straightened.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do we have any active case studies on Accardi scandals?" Lucilla demanded. "Big or small — I don’t care. Political, financial, sexual, personal. Anything we can use against the Accardi family."

The woman’s expression tightened apologetically.

"Unfortunately, no, Lady Lucilla. Accardi is extremely difficult to pry into. Our teams have tried for years, but nothing particularly useful has surfaced."

Lucilla stared at her.

For a moment, the answer nearly sent her into a second cardiac episode.

Apparently, the people sitting around this table were exceptionally talented at laughing at her jokes and inflating her ego, yet somehow completely incompetent when it came to doing the work they were actually paid for.

Still, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

House Accardi was notorious for meticulously covering its tracks.

Unless...

A sudden realization flashed through Lucilla’s mind.

Her palm slammed against the table, making everyone jump again.

BAM!

"Contact Ylenia Ombra," Lucilla ordered, a menacing smile spreading across her face. "Invite her to the exhibition two weeks from now."

She pointed dramatically toward herself.

"Tell her that I, Lucilla Bellini herself, want to purchase whatever scandalous shit she’s got on House Accardi."