Chapter 12 - THE COUNTER-OFFER
I stared at Nathan across the candlelit table, weighing every word, every micro-expression, every hidden angle of his proposal. The man was dangerous, brilliant, and entirely unpredictable.
"If I agree to a merger," I said slowly, "I don't want a 50-50 split. I want controlling voting shares of the new corporate trust."
Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of genuine respect flashing in his gray gaze. "You drive a hard bargain, Lena. Controlling shares give you ultimate veto power over every asset decision."
"Exactly," I replied. "Because unlike my grandfather, I don't build empires on stolen ground. If we merge, we audit every single property acquired by the Vance-Sterling conglomerate over the past fifty years and issue public restitution to any displaced families."
Nathan went completely still. He looked at me for a long, tense moment, as if trying to determine whether I was bluffing.
"Restitution?" he repeated quietly. "That would cost millions in payouts and asset write-downs."
"That is the price of cleaning the slate, Nathan," I said firmly. "If you want my land title, you play by my rules. No hidden agendas, no generational grudges, absolute transparency."
A slow, appreciative smile spread across Nathan’s face. He raised his glass of scotch toward me.
"You really are something else, Elena Vance," he murmured. "Deal."
We clinked our glasses together, sealing an alliance that would send shockwaves through the entire corporate elite. But as we shook hands across the table, my phone buzzed in my pocket with an urgent text message from an unknown number.
May you like
I glanced down at the screen. The message contained a single photo taken from across the street: Daniel and Beatrice standing together outside a dingy motel, holding documents marked *CONSPIRACY AFFIDAVIT.*
They weren't giving up. They were teaming up.
