Chapter 267
Leon hung up and drained his whiskey in one long swallow.
He leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the city lights, a self-satisfied smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Thirty years.
He'd waited thirty years for this.
From the day Cody handed the company to Cedric, he'd been waiting—waiting for the chance to tear him down from that throne.
Now, at last, it had come.
---
The next morning at eight-thirty, the conference hall at the York Group headquarters was already full.
Dozens of shareholders lined both sides of the long oval table.
Some spoke in hushed voices, flipping through meeting materials, glancing toward the door now and then—waiting for the main event.
Leon wore a tailored navy suit, his hair combed to perfection. He sat two seats from the head of the table, smiling easily, making small talk with the shareholders beside him.
His composure was flawless. Not a crack in sight.
A few minutes later, Cedric walked in.
He wore a bespoke suit, no tie, looking slightly more casual than usual.
His expression was unreadable. His gaze swept the room, lingered on Leon for one second, then moved on.
He took his seat at the head of the table, picked up the microphone, and tested the sound. "Good morning, everyone. The shareholders' meeting is now in session."
The meeting proceeded item by item according to the agenda.
Financial reports. Annual summaries. Each one unremarkable. No ripples.
Until the fifth item—'Other Business'—when Leon finally spoke.
"Mr. York, I have something to say."
The room went quiet. Every pair of eyes turned to Leon.
Cedric set down his documents and leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Peterson, go ahead."
Leon rose slowly, his gaze sweeping every shareholder in the room, his voice resonant and measured.
"Everyone here is an investor in the York Group. You put your money into this company expecting returns."
He paused, raising his voice.
"But over the past three years, the York Group's performance has declined year after year. Competitors have eaten into our market share. Our stock price has dropped thirty percent."
Another pause. His voice grew heavier. "And the cause, in my view, is the management team led by Cedric—poor decisions, disorganized leadership, and blatant nepotism."
A low murmur rippled through the room.
Cedric didn't interrupt. He simply watched Leon perform.
Leon pulled a stack of documents from his briefcase and held them up for everyone to see.
"I have here a detailed record showing that over the past three years, Cedric used his position to outsource company projects to personal associates—totaling eighty million dollars."
The murmurs grew louder.
"Furthermore, he allowed personal feelings to cloud his judgment, shielding his wife—who is suspected of leaking company secrets—resulting in significant reputational damage to the firm."
Leon turned his gaze toward Katniss.
Katniss had been suspended, but she still held shares and was entitled to attend the meeting.
"Ms. Katniss Astor—Cedric's wife—was suspended by the board on suspicion of leaking confidential information. Rather than reflecting on her actions, she sued the company for personal gain. This behavior has severely harmed the York Group's image and interests."
He set down the documents and spoke clearly.
"Based on the above, I move to remove Cedric from his position as chairman of the York Group and to have the board elect a suitable replacement."
The room erupted.
"This is so sudden—"
"Is what Mr. Peterson said actually true?"
"If that's the case, Cedric really shouldn't be chairman anymore…"
Amid the commotion, Cedric rose slowly to his feet.
He didn't look at Leon. He looked toward the conference room doors.
"Mr. Peterson, are you finished?"
Leon frowned, caught slightly off guard by his calm. "I am."
"Good."
Cedric picked up a remote from the table and pressed a button.
The conference room doors swung open from outside.
Two uniformed officers walked in and headed straight for Leon.
"Mr. Leon Peterson, you are under arrest on suspicion of commercial bribery, money laundering, and defamation. Here is the warrant."
The lead officer held up a document.
"Please come with us."
The reversal happened so fast that the entire room fell into stunned, pin-drop silence.
The smile on Leon's face froze.
He stared at the officers in disbelief, then turned to Cedric. Finally, his gaze landed on Katniss.
Katniss stood there, watching him calmly, a phone in her hand.
The screen showed a recording interface. The red button still pulsed.
Leon's face went white. Bone white.
His mouth opened. He understood everything.
The two officers stepped forward and took hold of his arms, one on each side.
Handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists. The cold bite of metal snapped him back to reality.
He turned, staring at Katniss and Cedric, his eyes churning with rage, resentment, and the raw humiliation of being played.
"You—"
His voice came out hoarse, strangled.
"You were acting from the very beginning?"
Katniss said nothing. She slipped the phone into her pocket.
Cedric walked up to Leon, looked down at him, and spoke at a volume just loud enough for every person in that room to hear.
"Uncle Leon, you were right. Everything you did, you did for the York Group's own good."
He paused. The faintest curve touched his lips—cold, devoid of warmth.
"Now it's time to pay for all of it."
---
Leon's case went to trial a month later.
Katniss arrived early on the day of the hearing.
She sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a plain white blouse, her hair pulled into a low ponytail. No makeup. She looked clean and quiet.
She didn't turn to watch the people filing in behind her. She simply stared straight ahead at the bench, her gaze still.
Cedric sat on the other side of the gallery, one empty row between them. He hadn't moved to sit beside her, but he hadn't deliberately kept his distance either.
A moment of silence. The judge called the court to order.
When the bailiff brought Leon in, Katniss barely recognized him.
In just one month, he looked a decade older.
His once-immaculate hair had gone mostly gray. The skin on his face sagged. Dark pouches hung beneath his eyes.
He wore a gray prison uniform, handcuffs at his wrists, shuffling to the defendant's stand with his head bowed. He didn't look at anyone.
After the prosecutor finished reading the indictment, the judge called the witnesses to testify.