The conference room fell into stunned silence as Chen Wei's words echoed off the walls. Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face. Five hundred million. The number might as well have been five billion.
"Mr. Chen, please," she began, but he was already packing his briefcase with sharp, dismissive movements.
"We're done here," the older woman declared, rising from her chair with theatrical dignity. "The Chen family doesn't waste time on companies that can't afford quality."
Director Wang made a last desperate attempt. "Surely we can find some middle ground—"
"Middle ground?" Chen Wei laughed harshly. "This isn't a street market. Our ancestral formula is worth exactly what we say it's worth."
Logan Harmon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Perhaps if we could see more detailed documentation of the formula's historical uses—"
"You've seen enough," the older woman snapped. "More than most companies ever get to see."
