Chapter 63 Saints and Sinners
Max Sinclair was a shrewd strategist. He understood that people didn't just buy shares in his company for the income they bought them to gain influence. Some, if wealthy enough, aimed to buy their way to the top. But Max was always one step ahead. He never imposed a cap on share ownership, knowing that would raise suspicion. Instead, he quietly purchased the majority of the company's shares under different names, ensuring the Sinclair family retained true control.
Since voting power in the company was tied to the number of shares held, the Sinclair heir would always carry the majority vote. And in any scenario where the board might try to oust his heir, Max had already arranged a failsafe: a hidden network of anonymous shareholders who, when needed, would tip the vote decisively in the Sinclair family's favor.
This secret this hidden architecture of control was passed down only to the successor. No one else knew. Not the public. Not the board. To them, the Sinclair Group was just another company with an open market and a voting system that appeared fair. But the truth was buried deep, safeguarded by generations.
Ethan knew. And unlike his grandfather, he wasn't subtle about it.
He was cocky he deliberately revealed it to them. He wanted them to stop trying. He wanted them to know that their handful of shares could never dethrone him, he watched the realization dawn on their faces: they couldn't touch him.
He wasn't just the CEO. He was a Sinclair. And when it came to power, no one in that boardroom came close.
The boardroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
They just stared at him speechless, stunned.
Ethan sat motionless at the end of the table, but his presence alone shifted the entire room's gravity. Perry held nearly 50% of the U.S. shares. No one else in that room even came close. He didn't have to say a word. He didn't even need to vote. Just the realization that he was Perry was enough to silence everyone.
A slow, deliberate smile crept across Ethan's face as he turned to Lawrence.
Lawrence looked pale. He was panicking and for good reason. He had spoken too freely to the wrong person.
When Lawrence had first sent that message requesting a private meeting, Ethan had replied without hesitation. He gave him the audience he asked for not because he trusted him, but because he wanted to hear everything.
And Lawrence had talked.
He didn't give away too much. Nothing overt. Nothing reckless. But he said enough. Enough to show his hand. Enough to confirm what Ethan had already suspected: Lawrence wanted him gone. He had painted Ethan as power-hungry, a threat to the board's stability. Said if they didn't act soon, Ethan would eventually replace them all.
This had been a very costly mistake one Lawrence was already paying for.
He was visibly sweating now, the collar of his shirt damp, his composure slipping with every second that passed. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came. He couldn't even look at Ethan anymore.
Ethan finally glanced away, granting him a moment to breathe.
Now Ethan was going to school them.
He rose from his chair with a quiet authority that drew every eye in the room. He didn't need to bang a fist on the table or raise his voice. The power he carried wasn't loud, it was inherited. It was undeniable. It filled the space around him, thick and suffocating, like a storm rolling in just before it breaks.
He looked around slowly, meeting their eyes one by one as if memorizing their faces.
"I know most of you don't like me," Ethan said, his voice calm, steady. "That's fine. I wasn't raised to be liked. I was raised to lead."
He let the silence stretch for a beat.
"But I want to assure you everything I've done, every decision I've made, has been for the growth of this company. This empire. And if that makes you uncomfortable, it's probably because you've been feeding off what doesn't belong to you."
A few of the older members shifted in their seats. Eyes flicked downward. No one interrupted.
"Let's not pretend this room is filled with saints. Some of you, maybe more than a few, have grown used to the back doors I've been busy closing. Used to treating this company's hard-earned income like your personal allowance."
He took a slow step forward, not rushing just claiming the space.
"You see, I'm not afraid of your opinions. I'm not here to beg for your support. I know exactly what some of you whisper behind closed doors. That I'm too young. That I'm too ambitious. That I've become power drunk."
He smiled, and the warmth never reached his eyes.
"But if any of you are foolish enough to think your measly shares give you the right to challenge Sinclair blood... think again."
He stopped at the head of the table, directly across from Lawrence who looked like he might choke on his own fear.
"This name, this company isn't something you buy your way into. You don't inherit it by accident. You earn it in blood. In sacrifice. In silence. And when the time comes... in war."
The room was frozen.
"You think this is about control?" Ethan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "No. This is about destiny. And whether you like me or not... I am that destiny."
"So before you get too bold before you convince yourself that influence means ownership, remember this: I don't have to threaten you to win. I already have."
And just like that, he turned and returned to his seat, slow and composed.
No one spoke. No one moved.
The boardroom remained heavy with the echo of truth.
The Sinclair empire was something Max built brick by brick. Every deal, every acquisition, every ruthless decision had been a stone in the foundation. And though the company had grown into a global powerhouse, to Max, it was still a family business.
He knew expansion required outside capital. He had to sell shares to grow. But as the years went by, he began to quietly buy them back piece by piece,using anonymous entities and front companies.
Max knew exactly how greedy and dangerous men could be when power was involved. If he didn't act, if he didn't protect the legacy he built, the company could one day slip out of Sinclair's hands entirely. And he wasn't going to let that happen.
That's why he needed a strong heir. Not just a figurehead, but someone sharp. Vicious. Uncompromising. Someone who could carry the weight of the empire on his shoulders without blinking.
And that was Ethan.
Ethan had exceeded his expectations. More ruthless than Max had hoped. More calculated. More commanding.
He wasn't just the future of the Sinclair name, he was the Sinclair name. And Max knew, wherever he was now, that the empire was exactly where it belonged.
And to make sure Ethan reproduced and kept the company in the family, Max took it a step further.
It was written directly into his will: Ethan had to marry in order to inherit the company. No exceptions. No loopholes.
It wasn't about love. It was about legacy. Max didn't care who the bride was, only that she could bear the next Sinclair. In his mind, a bloodline was the most powerful form of control.
This was how Max kept everything in check even after he was gone. His hand still lingered in every corner of the empire.