Chapter 901: No Other Choice

“We meet again, Mr. President.”

“Yes, Mr. Lynch. We meet again.”

Sitting on the sofa with his legs pressed tightly together, the CEO of EveryMoment showed none of the fury he displayed in front of his subordinates. He looked more like a helpless lamb awaiting the stab of fate, legs clenched, sitting stiffly.

He had no power to resist—only to endure.

And that was the truth. From the moment the two companies announced their plans to acquire EveryMoment, he had no way out.

He had once considered using the power of his warlord brother in Marilo to solve the problem—perhaps by staging some attacks or targeting those managing the acquisition.

But he quickly abandoned that idea. He knew the Federation had always taken a cautious stance on such matters. One misstep and it could lead to a massive purge.

With the banks unwilling to help, his only hope now lay with the man in front of him—Mr. Lynch. There was no other path.

“Our last conversation wasn’t very pleasant. Are you bringing me good news this time?” Lynch’s tone was unusually direct and pressing.

It was a deliberate tactic.

The warlord background behind EveryMoment had a deep influence. Years of chaotic conflict in Marilo had led both Mariloans and Malorians to believe that strength was the only true foundation.

And in truth, that was the case. Those with power thrived; those without were crushed.

They revered the strong and trampled the weak. It had become second nature—a way of life.

During the wars, Mariloans had slaughtered Malorians without reason, purely out of hatred. And to be fair, the Malorians had done the same, repeatedly.

This mutual blood feud left only one rule: the strongest devours all.

When dealing with such people, humility would only be seen as weakness. Only with force could one make them retract their claws—if only temporarily.

Lynch could already imagine that once EveryMoment got through this crisis, the man in front of him—exhausted, disheveled, looking like he hadn’t slept in days—would be the first to try and kick him off the board, even snatch his shares.

His hardline stance now would at least keep the other man in check for a while—and that time was enough to lay the groundwork for many things.

The CEO of EveryMoment tried to force a smile, but failed.

“That’s… a very hard number to accept, Mr. Lynch. I can’t make that decision…”

Lynch cut him off. “Then get someone who can.”

“If you can’t decide, why are you even talking to me?”

“To tell jokes?”

The blunt response made the CEO clench his fists on his knees—then slowly release them.

This was his only chance. If he lost it, he’d lose everything.

“After you left that day, I spoke to my brother. He said if it’s around fifteen percent, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

He invoked his brother, though he didn’t really want to. His brother was useful against small-time players—less so against major ones.

He could only hope Lynch, being young, still held some fear or respect for the world. Maybe, just maybe, it would work.

Lynch sneered. “Your brother won’t be making decisions for long.”

“The fact that you’re even here means someone tipped you off about the details of this acquisition battle. Once it begins, it’s a full sweep.”

“You can’t come up with the money. It doesn’t matter who those small shareholders represent—they’ll all have to choose.”

“A bidding war.”

Hostile takeovers in the Federation weren’t easy. They weren’t the result of mutual agreement or natural market forces.

Such takeovers often triggered financial instability, so with pressure from Congress and regulators, new laws were introduced.

Once the acquiring party held a certain percentage of shares, they could request the suspension of trading.

The financial regulators claimed this was to protect ordinary shareholders from being crushed between corporate giants.

Afterward, rules required asset restructuring and privatization. Only after everything settled could the company be relisted.

Usually, hostile acquirers had carefully prepared funding and had bank support.

They could use their shares, frozen at the trading halt price, as collateral to borrow from banks and continue acquiring.

With the right planning, they might spend just $100–200 million to take control of a $500–600 million company.

That was the standard approach. But there was always the risk of failure—where the hostile holder’s shares lost voting rights and couldn’t get them onto the board.

Once the frenzy ended and the stock resumed trading, the hostile party would exit with major losses.

Now, two companies had launched a hostile acquisition of EveryMoment. That meant they were fully confident in dragging the company into the abyss.

And there was an interesting question behind it—

Why were banks so eager to lend to the attackers, but not to the defenders?

Simple: the attackers aimed for profit, and that plan was in place before they even acted.

Whether it was splitting up the company, flipping it, or taking over operations, everything they did was aggressive.

Put plainly, they were willing to destroy the company for profit if needed. That meant the bank could at least break even—legally plundering the company while dumping debt on the acquirers.

But defenders wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t destroy their own hard work just to fend off an acquisition. That contradiction made all the difference.

This also meant that lending money to the defending side came with significantly higher risk than lending to the acquirers.

Banks were never charitable organizations. Their core business was making money by any means. Many people are fooled by their polished image, thinking they’re some kind of “public service institution.”

But they’re not. In fact, they are the most profitable entities in the Federation—without exception.

Long before this game began, the banks had already chosen their side. Which is why, at this moment, the CEO of EveryMoment had no options left.

His expression darkened, barely concealing his anger.

After a long pause, he finally let out a defeated breath. “Twenty percent… I agree.”

Of the 70% publicly traded shares, about 30% were still held by Federal shareholders. The CEO personally controlled somewhere between 40% and 50%.

If Lynch was willing to help him through this crisis, he could repurchase some of the small shareholders’ stocks to form a “key vote,” then sell the remaining shares to Lynch.

The only downside was that he’d lose absolute controlling interest. But in the Federation, that didn’t really matter.

Capitalists would never allow any company to have true “absolute control”—that would hinder their ability to legally plunder. Once a company goes public, founders rarely retain more than 51% ownership, especially with the volume of floating shares.

No one can hold that much.

So even if the CEO’s holdings shrank, as long as he kept the key vote, he would still be the largest shareholder—without question.

Making that decision pained him, but also brought a strange sense of relief.

“At yesterday’s closing price, EveryMoment’s current market value is around 400 million Federal Sols. For 20%, that would be…”

“Around 90 million.”

Lynch wasn’t too concerned with the exact number—roughly was close enough.

The CEO nodded. Just days ago, this amount could only buy 6–7% of the company. Now, it was worth 20%.

Soon, representatives from the bank arrived.

As Gold Exchange Bank’s most prestigious client, Lynch received top-tier service.

He could summon accountants, auditors, lawyers, and other professionals from the bank at any time, 24 hours a day.

They brought portable typewriters, contract templates—even officials from the Financial Regulatory Commission showed up.

In acquisition battles like this, where large quantities of shares change hands, the FRC must be informed.

They wouldn’t interfere with the transaction or even visibly participate, but they had to know the details and ensure it followed regulations.

Under the witness of the FRC and bank staff, Lynch and the CEO signed two copies of the share transfer agreement.

Looking at the contract, the CEO felt both relieved and helpless.

The betrayal of small shareholders wounded him deeply—though betrayal might be the wrong word. Capitalists are born with money on their minds.

Selling what they hold at a premium to reap massive profits isn’t condemned—it’s celebrated.

That’s what’s considered right in a capitalist society. Values like loyalty, etiquette, shame, and virtue no longer matter.

In the face of profit, those things are discarded. That’s the “sweetness” of the Federation.

If one can cast those burdens aside, then they are truly unbound, truly free—and truly sweet.