*Chapter 11**
**268 Vouchers**
**Chapter 11**
“What did you just say?”
Winthrop felt a jolt of clarity surge through him, as if a fog had suddenly lifted from his mind. This project was not just another task on his agenda; it was the key to seizing control of the Mendoza Group and dismantling the entrenched old guard that had resisted change for far too long.
The thought of someone else swooping in to claim it sent a wave of panic through him. All his painstaking efforts would be rendered meaningless.
He straightened his posture, disbelief washing over him. “Who is this competitor?”
“Rumor has it, it’s the Baldwin Group, an overseas firm that has just returned to the country.” As the words left his assistant’s lips, Winthrop felt his expression darken, shadows creeping into his features. “The Baldwin Group? I’ve never even heard of them.”
“Set up a meeting with their representative. I want to see who dares to challenge the Mendoza Group,” he commanded, his voice firm and unyielding.
“And call Ms. Welch over. I need her expertise to help me counteract the effects of this medication.”
With urgency coursing through him, Winthrop strode toward his study, locking the door behind him as if to shield himself from the chaos outside. He stepped into the cold shower, the icy water cascading over him, invigorating his senses and clearing his mind.
Afterward, he lay on his bed, the silence stretching around him as he anxiously awaited Yvonne’s arrival. Yet, even as the drug’s effects began to fade, there was still no sign of her. Frustration bubbled within him, and he pushed the bedroom door open with a scowl.
He nearly collided with his assistant, who was rushing down the hallway. “Sir, we still haven’t located Ms. Welch,” the assistant reported, breathless.
Winthrop felt his heart drop. “How is that even possible? Where else could she possibly be besides the Mendoza villa? Keep searching for her!”
“I’ve scoured the entire villa, but she is nowhere to be found,” the assistant replied, his tone laced with urgency.
“I’ve interrogated all the maids and the housekeeper. They haven’t seen Ms. Welch at all,” he added, his voice tight with frustration.
“Turn San Francisco upside down if you have to, but find her!” Winthrop barked, his temper flaring as he knocked over an expensive antique vase in his agitation.
The sound of shattering glass echoed in the room, a fitting reflection of his tumultuous mood. Winthrop stared at his phone, the screen filled with dozens of unanswered calls to Yvonne. His fists clenched involuntarily, the knuckles turning white with tension.
“Yvonne, you really are becoming more and more willful,” he muttered under his breath, a mix of annoyance and concern flooding his thoughts.
The following morning came, yet still no word from Yvonne. However, his assistant had managed to secure a meeting with the representative from the Baldwin Group. Winthrop, his face dark and brooding, slid into the understated luxury of the Maybach.
“Take me to meet the Baldwin Group first. This project is paramount. The rest of you, comb the area thoroughly. If you still can’t find her, contact the police once I’m back,” he instructed, his voice low but authoritative.
The car sped away, the city blurring past him as he lost himself in thought.
Moments later, Winthrop found himself standing in front of a lavish club, its opulence a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside him. He rolled his wrist, shaking off the tension, and strode through the entrance with purpose.
As he entered, his assistant opened the door to reveal a man lounging on a plush sofa—noble in appearance yet brimming with an air of arrogance. The man’s eyes glinted with a hint of contempt as he regarded Winthrop.
“Mr. Mendoza, I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” the man said, his tone dripping with condescension.
Winthrop’s irritation flared at the man’s dismissive demeanor, his expression hardening further. “I don’t know you at all. Why are you attempting to take my project? Does the Baldwin Group have some sort of connection to the Mendoza Group?”
A cold snort escaped Thomas, the representative, as he regarded Winthrop with disdain. “Connection? We wouldn’t dare associate with someone as hypocritical as you. I took your project simply to vent my anger for the one I love.”
At the mention of “the one I love,” Winthrop’s mind immediately leaped to Chloe. This man, with his refined appearance and noble demeanor, must surely be a confidant of some heiress. The jealousy he felt was palpable, especially since he had seen how closely he and Chloe had been linked, inseparable in the eyes of the world.
A smile crept onto Winthrop’s lips as he raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “To be honest, that woman and I are merely lovers in name. My feelings for her are driven by interests, not genuine affection. If you have feelings for her, I’d be willing to hand her over to you.”
“Regardless, I wouldn’t want her in the end,” Thomas retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm.
The tension in the room thickened, and before Winthrop could respond, Thomas’s fist connected sharply with his face, catching him completely off guard. Staggering back, Winthrop fought to regain his balance, his pride wounded as he fell to the ground.
“What are you doing?” he shouted, anger coursing through him. “I already told you, I have no interest in the person you care about. If you like her, then go after her!”
“Ungrateful, shameless scoundrel,” Thomas spat, his rage palpable.
“Bang!” Another punch landed, blood gushing from Winthrop’s nose and splitting his lip. The taste of iron filled his mouth, igniting a fire within him. He raised his hand to retaliate, and the two men immediately found themselves locked in a fierce struggle.
“Baldwin, I have no quarrel with you. If you truly care for her, pursue her. Why take your frustration out on me?” Winthrop exclaimed, trying to reason with the furious man.
Thomas’s eyes blazed with fury, and he clenched his jaw defiantly. “I just feel sorry for her, suffering so much with you, only to end up miserable and alone.”
In that moment, a realization struck Winthrop like a lightning bolt. The Norman family was wealthy, and Chloe was their beloved daughter. Even if her agreement with the Mendoza Group fell through, she wouldn’t be left destitute or alone.
This man wasn’t talking about Chloe.
“Wait a minute, Baldwin, is there some misunderstanding between us? I’m really not the kind of person you think I am, okay?” Winthrop pleaded, stepping back and raising his hands defensively.
“You must have the wrong person. I’m not some shameless scoundrel!” he insisted, desperation creeping into his voice.
“Misunderstanding? Winthrop, you’ll soon find out whether you are or not,” Thomas shot back, his expression darkening as he lunged forward, ready to deliver another blow.
Just then, a cool, clear voice rang out from outside the door, filled with disbelief. “Tom, what are you doing?”
Winthrop turned, his heart racing as he recognized that serene, pure face.
Yvonne.
