Chapter 2 The Battlefield Is Set
Damian’s POV
The markets opened in red. I watched it happen in real time. Six screens stretched across the wall of my office — international indexes, McKay Enterprises stock, live financial commentary, social media sentiment tracking, internal communications logs. Numbers didn’t lie. But they could be manipulated. And someone had done exactly that. McKay Enterprises was down four percent at opening bell. Not catastrophic. Not yet. But enough to signal doubt. Doubt was contagious. I stood at the window overlooking the city skyline, hands clasped behind my back. The view usually steadied me. Glass towers. Concrete power. Order. This morning, it felt like a battlefield. A discreet knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
My dad stepped inside, but his posture held firm. Here, he was Chairman. His gaze moved to the screens, then to me.
“Four percent,” he noted calmly.
“It’ll dip further before noon,” I replied.
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
Because panic follows narrative. And the narrative was already spiraling. Ardent Global was trending on every financial network. Their CEO had released a carefully worded statement at 6:00 a.m.
We remain committed to ethical transparency in all business negotiations.
A non-denial denial. Calculated. Dad walked further into the office. “Did you leak anything?”
I turned slowly.
“No.”
He held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary. Not accusation. Verification. Then he nodded once.
“Good.”
He moved toward the conference table. “The board convenes in forty-five minutes. They’re nervous.”
“Let them be,” I said evenly.
Nervous board members were predictable. Fear made people reveal their intentions.
“What’s your strategy?” he asked.
I stepped away from the window and picked up the remote, freezing one of the screens. A timeline appeared. The article drop. The coordinated social media amplification. The suspicious stock movement tied to a minor board member’s portfolio.
“Someone inside triggered early stock movement before the article went live,” I said. “Small trades. Spread across shell accounts.”
Dad’s eyes sharpened.
“Internal.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet.”
He studied me carefully.
“You realize what this looks like.”
“I do.”
Young CEO meets rival competitor in secret. Stock dips. Insider trading whispers. It painted recklessness. Inexperience. Exactly the narrative a hostile takeover would require. Dad folded his hands behind his back — mirroring my posture from minutes earlier.
“Ardent doesn’t move unless they smell blood.”
“They didn’t orchestrate this alone,” I said. “They were invited.”
A knock interrupted us. Courtney stepped inside without waiting for permission. Her expression was composed. But I knew her tells. The slight tension at the corners of her mouth. The hyper-focus in her eyes. She had been up since dawn. Monitoring coverage. Managing statements. Stabilizing perception. Dad nodded politely and excused himself without a word. The door closed. Silence settled. I crossed the room toward her.
“You should’ve slept,” I said.
“So should you.”
We stood close enough to touch. Didn’t. Professional walls. Glass everywhere. Eyes everywhere. She held out her tablet.
“Overnight sentiment analysis,” she said. “It’s shifting from scandal to suspicion. That’s good. People are starting to question the timing.”
I scanned the data quickly. She was right. Hashtags accusing Ardent of manipulation were gaining traction. But that wouldn’t be enough.
“Three board members have scheduled private calls with investors,” she continued. “Without you.”
My jaw tightened slightly.
“Names?”
She listed them. Two predictable. One disappointing.
“I can manage external press,” she said quietly. “But if they fracture internally—”
“They won’t.”
She searched my face.
“Damian.”
“I won’t let them.”
There it was. That edge in my voice. The one she worried about.
“You can’t strong-arm this,” she said gently.
“I don’t need to.”
“You look like you’re about to declare war.”
“I am.”
Her chin lifted slightly.
“Against Ardent?”
“Against whoever thought I wouldn’t notice.”
She exhaled slowly.
“This is what they want.”
“They want hesitation,” I corrected. “They want me cautious. Defensive.”
“And you’re going to do the opposite.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flickered — not fear. Calculation.
“You’re planning something.”
“I’m accelerating the European tech acquisition.”
Her brows rose.
“That wasn’t scheduled for another quarter.”
“It is now.”
She stared at me for a long moment.
“That’s aggressive.”
“It’s decisive.”
“It will look like retaliation.”
“It will look like leadership.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
I met her gaze directly.
“This isn’t about proving.”
“It feels like it.”
A pause. The air between us tightened.
“Last night,” she continued softly, “when they started whispering… I saw the board’s faces. They were waiting for you to falter.”
“I didn’t.”
“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t.”
“But they think you might,” she finished.
That was the real problem. Perception. In boardrooms, weakness wasn’t tolerated. And youth was often mistaken for it.
“I won’t let them corner you,” she added.
A faint smile touched my mouth.
“I don’t need protecting.”
Her expression sharpened instantly.
“I’m not protecting you.”
No. She wasn’t. She was standing beside me. Equal. That distinction mattered.
“Then what are you doing?” I asked quietly.
“Making sure you don’t become the villain in your own empire.”
The words hit harder than I expected. I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
“I will not lose this company.”
“I know.”
“I will not let them undermine what my family built.”
“I know.”
“And I will not let them drag your name into it.”
Her eyes flashed.
“That part isn’t your decision.”
Silence. Tension. Heat. The knock at the door broke it.
“Board is assembling, Mr. McKay.”
I didn’t look away from her.
“You don’t have to sit in,” I said.
She tilted her head slightly.
“You don’t get to sideline me either.”
A small, dangerous smile formed.
“Good.”
Because I didn’t want her sidelined. I wanted her where I could see her. Where they could see her. We walked into the boardroom together. The atmosphere shifted instantly. Conversations died mid-sentence. Eyes tracked us. Screens displayed stock data in cold, impersonal digits. Four point eight percent down. One board member cleared his throat.
“Damian, before we proceed—”
I didn’t sit yet. I remained standing at the head of the table.
“Let me clarify something,” I said calmly.
The room stilled.
“There is no investigation. There is no breach. There is no misconduct.”
A murmur.
I continued.
“What there is — is coordinated manipulation.”
I tapped a remote. The screen changed. Trade timestamps appeared. Account patterns. Shell corporation links. Faces around the table stiffened.
“We were targeted,” I said evenly. “And someone in this room provided the opening.”
Silence fell like a blade. Shock. Defensiveness. One member shifted uncomfortably.
Courtney stood near the wall, composed but watchful. Not interfering. Observing. Exactly where she was strongest.
“I have initiated a forensic audit,” I continued. “External and independent.”
A sharp inhale from the disappointing board member. Guilt had a scent. Fear.
“And while that unfolds,” I said smoothly, “we are moving forward with the European tech acquisition effective immediately.”
Another stir.
“That’s premature—” someone began.
“It’s strategic,” I interrupted calmly. “We do not shrink under pressure. We expand.”
Eyes flickered. Reassessing. This wasn’t a boy CEO reacting emotionally. This was a leader repositioning the battlefield.
“If Ardent believes a headline will destabilize us,” I added, “they have miscalculated.”
The door at the far end opened slightly as a late member entered. I didn’t break stride.
“We do not respond to rumour,” I said. “We outmanoeuvred it.”
Silence held for a moment. Then one member nodded slowly. Another followed. Momentum shifted. Fear recalibrated into respect. I finally took my seat.
Meeting adjourned forty minutes later. Stock stabilized at three point nine percent down. Not victory. But containment. As the board filtered out, Courtney approached quietly.
“That,” she said softly, “was terrifying.”
“For them?” I asked.
“For me.”
I looked at her fully.
“I don’t like when you go cold like that.”
“It’s necessary.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze softened.
“I don’t want to lose you to this.”
I stepped closer.
“You won’t.”
“You promise?”
I hesitated. Not because I doubted it. Because promises in war were fragile.
“I promise,” I said finally.
Her fingers brushed mine briefly before she stepped back. Professional distance restored. But something unspoken lingered. This was bigger than stock.
Bigger than Ardent. Someone had tested the empire. And I had responded. But wars weren’t won in one move. They were won in endurance.
And if someone thought they could fracture McKay Enterprises— They were about to learn exactly how patient I could be.