The moment Damian turned back toward the crowd, a sudden movement caught him off guard.
Crash.
The sound of glass shattering echoed through the ballroom as Damian stumbled slightly, his champagne flute slipping from his fingers and spilling onto the man standing in front of him.
Ethan.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as eyes turned toward the scene. Ethan, the ever-composed and revered Chairman of Blackwood, stood with his expensive suit now stained with Damian's drink. His sharp eyes flickered down at the mess before slowly lifting to meet Damian's gaze.
Damian tensed. "I—"
Before he could speak, Ethan exhaled, brushing off his sleeve with an air of cold amusement. "Interesting." His voice was calm, yet there was a weight to it—an unspoken authority that made those around him hold their breath.
Damian forced a tight smile, his usual arrogance faltering. "I didn't mean to—"
Ethan tilted his head slightly. "Didn't mean to?" He let out a dry chuckle. "Fascinating. And here I was, under the impression that a Kingsley should at least know how to handle a drink properly."
A few guests chuckled under their breath. Damian's face darkened.
Chris, standing a few steps away, watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. Ethan wasn't just making a statement—he was seizing an opportunity.
A waiter rushed forward with a cloth, but Ethan waved him off. Instead, he turned to a group of investors nearby—the ones Damian had been trying so hard to impress all evening. "Tell me," Ethan addressed them smoothly, "would you entrust a man to handle millions in investments if he can't even manage a glass in his own hand?"
The investors exchanged glances, their expressions shifting. Damian's attempts to secure them had already been delicate. This? This was a disaster.
Damian clenched his jaw. "Ethan, let's not blow this out of proportion—"
Ethan cut him off with an elegant smirk. "Blow it out of proportion? Oh, I'm afraid I'm not the one doing that. But I do find it entertaining how easily an unfortunate little accident can reflect a much bigger issue."
Damian's hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to snap back, but he knew better. Ethan was too powerful, too well-respected.
The investors, clearly unimpressed, exchanged nods before one of them clapped Damian on the shoulder with forced politeness. "Perhaps another time, Kingsley."
Damian's face paled. "Wait—"
But they were already walking away, interest in his proposals completely extinguished.
Ethan turned slightly, his gaze meeting Chris's for a fleeting second.
Message received.
Chris didn't need to lift a finger. Damian had played himself. Ethan had merely nudged him toward his own downfall.
And just like that, the Kingsley heir had lost far more than just a drink tonight.