Chapter 132 Celeste’s Family Declares War
"Minerva," Diego’s voice was strained. He tapped a new notification on the tablet. "The Whitmore Group just released a formal press statement. It’s not about the shares. It’s about Aegis."
"The Whitmore Group has filed a multi-jurisdictional injunction against Aegis Cosmetics," the ticker read. "Claims include patent infringement, theft of trade secrets, and industrial espionage."
"Spies?" I whispered. The word felt ridiculous, a plot from a cheap thriller. "We developed the peptide serum in our own labs. We have three years of documented research."
"It doesn't matter what is true," Diego said. He swiped to the next report. "Thomas Whitmore just bought the truth. Look at the port authority logs."
"Reason for seizure: Investigation into illicitly acquired proprietary biological assets," Diego read. His hand shook as he scrolled. "Minerva, they’re not just stopping the shipments. They are targeting our investors."
My private mobile phone buzzed. It was Alexander Redford. He had been our lead investor since the beginning. He was the one who believed in me when I was just a girl with a chemistry degree and a grudge.
I answered. "Alexander?"
"Minerva," his voice was cold. It lacked its usual warmth. "I just saw the Whitmore filing. My legal team has advised me to suspend all capital contributions to Aegis immediately. The reputational risk is too high."
"Alexander, you know these claims are fabricated," I argued. My chest felt tight, the air leaving my lungs. "Thomas is trying to freeze me out because of the Johnston shares."
"It doesn't matter why he's doing it," Alexander replied. "The market is reacting. Your stock is down forty percent in the after-hours. I have a fiduciary duty to my partners. Until this espionage claim is cleared, Redford Capital is out. Do not call this line again."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone. The man who had been my mentor, who had sat at my dinner table, had vanished in the blink of an eye.
"He’s not the only one," Diego said. He looked at me with raw pity. "Daniela Cabrera and Florence Carrington just pulled their shelf-space contracts. They are removing Aegis products from their luxury boutiques by midnight. They cited the 'moral turpitude' clause."
The room felt small. The walls seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of the Whitmore attack.
"They are trying to turn me back into the girl from the slums," I whispered.
"They are doing a good job of it," a voice said from the shadows.
Tristan walked toward the desk. He had been silent, watching the screens, his posture rigid. He looked at the report of the seized shipments.
"Thomas is using the 'Whitmore Doctrine,'" Tristan stated. His eyes were hard, reflecting the scrolling red numbers of the stock market. "It’s a scorched-earth policy. He doesn't just sue you; he poisons the ground you stand on. He will block every port, bribe every regulator, and threaten every friend you have until you are completely isolated."
"He wants the shares," I said. I reached into my pocket and touched the leather folder.
"He wants you broken," Tristan corrected. "He knows that if you walk into that boardroom tomorrow with a bankrupt company and a criminal investigation over your head, the Johnston Traditionalists will have the legal grounds to void your voting rights. They will claim you are an unfit steward for the legacy."
I looked at the monitor. A new news alert appeared. A reporter was standing outside the Whitmore estate.
"In a shocking development," the reporter said, "Celeste Whitmore has issued a personal statement. She claims that Minerva Serrano—formerly known as Minerva Hayes—infiltrated the Johnston inner circle three years ago with the express intent of stealing Whitmore intellectual property to fund her startup, Aegis."
The screen showed a photo of me from three years ago. I looked young. I looked happy. I was leaning against Tristan’s shoulder at a private gallery opening.
"She is claiming our relationship was a long-term heist," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "She is making me a villain in her own soap opera."
"She is doing what she was raised to do," Tristan said. He walked around the desk, stopping mere inches from me. "She is protecting the alliance. If she can frame you as a spy, she becomes the victim. The public will demand the Johnston-Whitmore wedding happens just to 'restore honor' to the families."
"I won't let them take it," I vowed. I stood up, my chair screeching against the floor. "I built Aegis with my own hands. I bled for those formulas. I won't let a spoiled heiress and a predatory billionaire rewrite my history."
"How are you going to stop them?" Diego asked. He gestured to the phone. "The banks have already started the preliminary freeze on our accounts. We can't even pay our legal retainers by tomorrow morning."
I looked at the bearer shares. Twenty percent of the Johnston Group.
"I have the voting power to call an emergency board meeting," I said. "Tonight."
"Harriet will block the quorum," Tristan warned. "She will say the meeting is unauthorized."
"Not if I have a board member to sponsor the motion," I countered. I looked at Tristan. "You resigned, but your seat is not officially filled until the next fiscal quarter. You still have the power to call a session."
Tristan stared at me.
"If I do that," Tristan whispered, "Harriet will disown me completely. Thomas will use the debt to strip every cent I have left. I will be as broke as you were in Port Sterling."
"You said you wanted to earn my trust," I reminded him. I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a lethal, immersive whisper. "You said you wanted to stand in the fire with me. Well, the building is burning, Tristan. Are you a Johnston, or are you my husband?"
Tristan’s jaw tightened. He looked at the screen, then back at me.
He reached out and took the tablet from Diego’s hand.
"Call the secretary of the board," Tristan commanded, his voice returning to the sharp, commanding tone of the CEO he used to be. "Tell them the majority shareholder has arrived. And tell Harriet Montgomery to put on her best suit. It’s going to be a long night."
As we turned to head toward the elevators, my private phone vibrated in my hand.
It was a text from a local number I didn't recognize. I swiped the screen.
Aegis is just the beginning, Minerva. Check the security feed for your warehouse in the north district. There is a reason the guards walked off so easily.
I felt a pit form in my stomach. I opened the security application. I navigated to the North District Distribution Center—the place where we stored the final packaged products for the spring launch.
The screen flickered to life.
A small, blue stuffed wolf sat on top of the crate.
"Elias," I gasped.
I looked at Tristan.
The corporate war was a distraction. The sabotage was a feint.
Thomas Whitmore hadn't just declared war on my company. He had taken my son.
The phone buzzed again.
The boardroom or the boy, Minerva. You have one hour to choose.