Chapter 151 Pretending To Break And Surrender
I stood behind my desk, staring at the financial reports Diego had just compiled. Shipments of raw materials sat locked in overseas customs. Three of our primary distributors had canceled their contracts within the last hour. The sabotage was clinical and flawless. It wasn't the brute force of Thomas Whitmore. It was the precise, surgical strike of an insider.
Benedict Holloway.
The man who had signed my mother’s trust as a witness. The man who had mentored me. The man who had fed my location to the tabloids three years ago, triggering the scandal that destroyed my reputation, just to keep the Johnston family distracted while he consolidated his power.
The door to my office opened.
Benedict walked in. He wore a charcoal suit, his silver hair perfectly styled. He looked calm. He looked like the paternal advisor who had guided me through my first corporate acquisition. He did not look like a man who had orchestrated my mother’s exile and my three years of starvation.
"Minerva," Benedict said. His voice was smooth, carrying a practiced warmth. "You look exhausted."
"My company is under attack, Benedict," I replied. I kept my voice flat, hiding the inferno of rage burning in my chest. "Thomas Whitmore is strangling my supply chains. The banks are threatening to call in our expansion loans."
Benedict walked to the leather chairs opposite my desk and sat down. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his lap. "Thomas is a blunt instrument. He is angry about the failed merger, and he is lashing out. The Johnston board is terrified. They see your sudden rise and the claim to the Serrano shares as a destabilizing force."
"They see me as a threat," I corrected him.
"They see a liability," Benedict countered. He leaned forward, his expression shifting into one of grave concern. "The board is drafting an emergency motion, Minerva. They plan to challenge the legality of the Serrano trust in federal court. They will tie your shares up in litigation for a decade. While that happens, Thomas will bleed Aegis dry. You will lose the company you built, and you will never see a dime of the Johnston wealth."
I gripped the edge of my desk. The cold metal bit into my palms. I knew what he was doing. He was painting me into a corner. He was showing me the wall he had built around me, waiting for me to realize I had no way out.
"What do you want, Benedict?" I asked.
"I want to save you," he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick legal document, setting it on my desk. "This is a proxy transfer. If you sign your voting rights over to me, I can block Harriet and the old guard. I can force Thomas to back off your supply chains. You retain your title at Aegis, and you receive a massive, silent buyout for the foundational shares. You walk away a billionaire, and your son grows up safe."
I stared at the document. This was the endgame he had planned for thirty years. He wanted the power of the hidden heir without the mess of the actual bloodline. He wanted me to hand him the keys to the kingdom my mother died to protect.
It was time to spring the trap.
I let my shoulders slump. I released my grip on the desk, letting my hands fall to my sides. I lowered my chin, breaking eye contact. I pulled every memory of Port Sterling—the cold, the fear, the exhaustion of fighting a world that wanted me erased—and I let it show on my face.
"I can't fight them," I whispered. My voice cracked. It wasn't entirely an act. The fatigue in my bones was real. "They sent men with guns, Benedict. Tristan took a bullet. They tried to take Elias. I can't keep looking over my shoulder. I can't keep wondering if the next attack is going to be the one that leaves my son an orphan."
Benedict’s eyes softened, but behind the fake sympathy, I saw the gleam of pure triumph. He believed me. He believed that the girl from the industrial district had finally broken under the weight of the elite class. The arrogance of powerful men always blinded them. They always assumed a woman would eventually crack.
"You fought a brave war, Minerva," Benedict murmured. He stood up and walked around the desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to lean into it, playing the part of the defeated protégé. "You proved you are a survivor. But surviving isn't living. Let the adults handle the boardroom. Take your son and go live the life your mother wanted for you."
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting a single tear slip down my cheek. "If I sign this, Thomas leaves Aegis alone?"
"You have my word," Benedict promised. "Bring the signed proxy to the massive shareholder meeting tomorrow morning. It will be a public forum. You will announce your transition, and I will take the helm. The market will stabilize instantly."
"Okay," I said. I looked up at him, my face a mask of surrender. "Tomorrow morning."
Benedict smiled. It was the smile of a king looking at a conquered province. He patted my shoulder one last time, turned, and walked out of the office.
The moment the heavy glass door clicked shut, the tears stopped.
I straightened my spine. I wiped the moisture from my cheek. The defeated, cornered girl vanished, replaced by the woman who was about to burn their empire to the ground.