Chapter 21 Chapter 21
The call ended.
And the moment it did, Megan slowly lowered the phone and smiled.
It was not a loud smile.
Not a playful one.
It was the quiet smile of someone who had finally set the first real move into motion.
“Yes,” she murmured to herself. “Now everything is going to go exactly the way I planned.”
She took a slow breath and looked around the room, calm and steady.
“I’m going to crumble everything that has to do with the Bushman family,” she said softly, but with chilling certainty. “Slowly. Gently. Piece by piece.”
There was no hesitation in her voice, No anger loud enough to shake the walls.
Just resolve, the dangerous kind.
“They will never again have the chance to betray someone and walk away like nothing happened,” she continued. “They will never again destroy another person’s life just to satisfy themselves.”
Her expression hardened.
“This will be a lesson,” she said. “A lesson for every wicked and disgusting person who thinks power gives them the right to ruin others.”
Then she glanced toward the card again and straightened.
“Well,” she said, “for now, I need to activate this card.”
Outside Global Investments, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation.
Journalists had already gathered in large numbers.
TV crews were lined up outside the building, their cameras pointed toward the entrance, waiting for the moment the expected guest would arrive. Microphones bearing the names of different stations were raised and ready. Camera lights flashed. Production assistants moved about quickly. Reporters adjusted their hair, fixed their jackets, and checked their notes for the hundredth time.
There were more than twenty media teams on the ground.
Some were from national television stations.
Some were from top online news outlets.
Others were independent broadcasters already going live from the scene.
Everyone was talking about the same thing.
The contract, the number.
The history that was supposedly about to be made.
One female reporter stood before her camera, speaking with professional excitement.
“We are coming to you live from outside Global Investments,” she announced, “where history may be made today. Sources have revealed that this could be the first time Global Investments will be awarding a contract worth one hundred billion dollars to a single individual.”
Not far from her, another reporter was already addressing his audience.
“And that individual,” he said, “is said to be one of the fastest-growing entrepreneurs in the country. If this deal is signed today, he will not only make headlines nationwide, he will instantly become one of the most talked-about young businessmen in the entire country.”
A third broadcaster added even more drama to it.
“This signing could officially place him at the top,” she said. “Not just as a successful entrepreneur, but as the youngest entrepreneur ever in this country to sign a contract of this magnitude.”
The reporters fed off the excitement around them, each one trying to sound more certain, more informed, more dramatic than the next.
“And beyond that,” one of them continued, “such a deal would likely push him into the ranks of the richest entrepreneurs in the country. That is how significant this moment is expected to be.”
Around them, the cameras kept rolling.
The building stood tall behind them, glass shining under the daylight, while security maintained order at the entrance.
Every now and then, heads turned sharply at the sound of an approaching car, only for disappointment to settle in when it was not the one they were waiting for.
Still, no one left, everyone remained on standby.
Because all of them were sure of one thing.
At any moment from now, Vincent Bushman was expected to arrive.
Not long after, a sleek Mercedes-Benz Bentley pulled up in front of Global Investments.
The moment the car came to a stop, the atmosphere outside the building shifted instantly.
Every journalist became alert, every camera turned at once.
Microphones lifted.
Live broadcasts sharpened.
People began speaking over one another in excitement.
“It seems he’s here!”
“Bushman.....Vincent Bushman is here!”
“This is him! This is him!”
The sudden wave of energy swept across the entrance like a spark catching dry grass. Reporters straightened up, cameramen adjusted their focus, and several stations immediately began speaking faster into their microphones, eager not to miss a second of the moment.
Security moved quickly toward the vehicle.
One of the guards stepped forward and opened the door.
Then Vincent stepped out.
The reaction was immediate.
“He’s here!”
“Vincent Bushman is here!”
“This is him!”
Camera flashes began going off one after another.
Vincent adjusted his jacket, lifted his chin, and gave the kind of confident smile that suggested he had already accepted his place in history. He looked polished, composed, expensive every inch the young businessman the media had come to celebrate.
As reporters continued their live coverage, he gave them a light wave, acknowledging the attention as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Wow, he’s finally here!”
“Oh my goodness, he’s here!”
“This is the man everyone has been waiting for!”
The voices around him rose with admiration and excitement.
Some of the journalists began throwing questions in his direction almost immediately, eager to get a quote before he entered the building.
“Mr. Bushman!”
“Vincent!”
“What would you like to say to young people who now look up to you?”
“What message do you have for the public, especially for young entrepreneurs who see you as proof that age is not a limitation?”
“How does it feel to be at the center of such a historic moment?”
The microphones pushed closer.
One reporter, almost breathless with enthusiasm, added, “A lot of young people are inspired by you. They believe that because of what you’ve achieved, they too can dream bigger, work harder, and accomplish anything. What would you like to tell them?”
Vincent smiled.
It was the smile of a man enjoying every second of the attention.
He paused just enough to look thoughtful, then spoke in a calm, measured voice that sounded rehearsed but effective.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t really have much to say.”
The cameras stayed fixed on him.
“But if there is one thing I will say, it is this everything comes down to hard work.”
He nodded once, as though sealing his own wisdom.
“You have to work hard for what you want. Like me, I’ve worked very hard to make sure that I’m in this position today.”
His smile widened slightly.
“So that’s really all I have to say to them hard work.”