Chapter 533 No One’s An Iconoclast When Zayn’s Concerned

Alexandra breathed a sigh of relief, and the same blithe smile blossomed out of her lips again. “That’s great!” Brock had been watching them from afar. The fact that Zayn and Alexandra kept chuckling and chattering in that misguided cheeriness, as though Brock’s threat meant nothing, made him foam in exasperation. He could not wait till Mr. Rivera was here. When he was here, oh boy—he could not wait to rearrange Zayn’s face. Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, a large procession of people stepped through the door while the crowd looked on with interest. The one leading them was a square-jawed man with an air of authority. It was Mr. Rivera. Behind him were more than a dozen of people of whom bodyguards and people from Violet Vision each made up about half. Mr. Rivera was, in truth, one of Sean Wilson’s underlings. He occupied a rather high position in the company and owned less than one percent of Violet Vision’s shares. It might not seem like much, but it was enough to secure his spot in the wealthy upper-class. When he first heard Brock’s complaint, he was especially offended. Coupled with the fact that he was having his meal nearby, he decided to come straight to the rescue. There was no way he would stay out of this—not when he was the chairman’s biggest fan! Ever since Zayn purchased the entirety of Violet Vision, his net worth had been growing exponentially. As time passed and his wealth flourished, the man had ceased seeing Zayn as a mere superior and more of an idol worthy of veneration. He would never let anyone assume the identity of his beloved leader, let alone allow that perpetrator to bring a splat of mud to the chairman’s good name! The sheer number Mr. Rivera had brought with him was therapy for Brock’s sore mood. He waved at him vigorously before crossing the distance to approach Mr. Rivera. He even drew an invisible line across his neck when he passed Zayn before flashing him a slasher’s smile. “You’re dead, prick. Mr. Rivera is here… Just sit here and wait for your time.” Zayn remained in his spot, as immovable as a mountain. He sat in his chair with his wine glass in his hand with aplomb. Nearby, Alexandra took in his serenity despite everyone’s attention and felt a surge of admiration and adoration growing out of the bottom of her heart. She could not help but gaze at Zayn with reverent twinkles in her eyes as she stood behind him and massaged his neck docilely. Brock was beyond excited. He jogged to Mr. Rivera and greeted him with just enough hint of respect, “Mr. Rivera! So glad to see you made it!” Mr. Rivera was a middle-aged man spotting prominent musculature. The hair on his square-jawed face, including his beard, was thick and bushy, which lent an air of severity to his face. He radiated a dignified, all-important air that Brock himself lacked. Nodding, he replied in a low voice, “You mentioned someone has taken to assuming the identity of Violet Vision’s esteemed chairman? Explain!” Seeing the rage oozing out of the man was a shot of serotonin to Brock’s mood. Loudly, he reported, “You got it right, sir! Some son of a b*tch calling himself Larson or whatever has the balls to pretend he is the chairman of Violet Vision while he commits…unspeakable, unforgivable transgressions! He’s ruining the esteemed old man’s good name! I stood up against him for it, but you know what he did? He beat me up. How shameless can this clown be, right?!” Mr. Rivera was apoplectic. Seething eyes traced the invisible line shooting out from Brock’s finger until they landed on Zayn who remained seated and welcomed him with a half-smile. “Yo, Jose!” the young man greeted, “You brought a party, I see! Is this all to teach me a lesson?” Mr. Rivera’s eyes focused on Zayn’s face until the latter’s features became undeniable. He froze, and as soon as he heard Zayn, his heart grew cold with fear. His legs started to wobble too. “M-M-Mr. Chairman? I-it was you...?!”