Chapter 213: Source Of the Line

Chapter 213: Chapter 213: Source Of the Line

The heavy oak doors of Arthur Livingston’s private study opened, but for the first time in his life, Alex didn’t wait to be called in.

He walked into the paper-scented room with a measured, steady stride, his chin lifted and his posture immaculate. The knot of anxiety that usually coiled in his stomach whenever he stood before his father was completely gone, replaced by a cold, quiet weight.

Arthur sat behind his mahogany desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed the quarterly balance sheets. He glanced up, his thick brows pulling together at his son’s unannounced entry.

"I was under the impression you were finalizing your suit for the reception tomorrow," Arthur said, his voice gravelly and stern. "What is so urgent that you bypass my secretary?"

Alex didn’t offer a polite excuse. He pulled back the heavy leather armchair across from his father—the same seat where he had taken reprimands for months—and sat down, crossing his legs casually.

From the inner pocket of his suit jacket, Alex pulled out two heavy documents and laid them flat on the center of the desk, right over the printed ledgers his father was reading.

The gold seal of the Republic’s Ministry of Commerce caught the light of the desk lamp.

Arthur’s eyes dropped to the top cover sheet. The bold header was impossible to miss: Northern Freight Corridor - Trade & Logistics Authorization Grant.

The old man’s breath hitched in his throat. He reached out with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers, pulling the file closer. He flipped past the official terms to the final execution page, where the high-level state seals were stamped in dark red ink. Right beneath it lay the second document—the state rail extension integration agreement.

Silence settled over the study, heavy and absolute, broken only by the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Arthur lifted his head, taking off his reading glasses. His sharp, weathered eyes scanned Alex’s face, searching for any sign of a bluff.

"Where did you get these?" Arthur asked, his voice lower than usual, completely stripped of its typical edge. "The Ministry delayed the bidding on the Freight Corridor until next quarter. Duke Timber spent three months trying to get a preliminary review for this exact contract and couldn’t even secure an audience."

"The Ministry doesn’t decide who gets these contracts when the Roys family intervenes," Alex said smoothly, resting his hands on the armrests. "They handed them to me personally."

Arthur froze. "The Roys family?"

"They stepped in to clear the administrative red tape," Alex said, giving a slow, deliberate nod. "Both tenders are granted exclusively to the Livingston Group, pending our infrastructure integration with the Brodick network."

Arthur stared at his son, his mind visibly processing the scale of what he was looking at. For decades, the Livingston family had operated as a solid second-tier power—wealthy, respected, but always forced to maneuver around the political weight of the core families. Securing a single state logistics tender of this size was something Arthur had spent ten years trying to achieve.

And Alex had walked in with two in a single evening, directly backed by the highest authority in the capital.

A distinct shift occurred in the room. Arthur leaned back in his executive chair, looking at Alex not as an impulsive heir who needed supervision, but as an executive who had just broken through the ceiling of the family’s business.

Slowly, the hard, critical lines around Arthur’s mouth softened. A rare, deep smile spread across his weathered face—a look of pure, undivided satisfaction.

"Two state tenders..." Arthur murmured, shaking his head slightly. "With the Roys family explicitly behind it."

He picked up his fountain pen, the gold nib tapping against the desk blotter.

"Your grandfather built our foundation on local distribution lines," Arthur said, his voice carrying a weight Alex had never heard before. "I spent my life turning it into a regional powerhouse. But this... this takes us straight into the core of the Republic’s infrastructure."

Arthur set the pen down, reached forward, and pushed the entire stack of printed ledgers—the documents he used to manage every branch of the business—to Alex’s side of the desk.

"Effective tomorrow morning, the executive board reports directly to you," Arthur declared, his voice firm and absolute. "I will handle the traditional banking relationships and legal oversight for the merger paperwork. But the direction of the company, the expansion routes, and the allocation of our primary capital—all of it is in your hands."

Alex looked down at the stacked ledgers, then back up into his father’s eyes. A dark, intoxicating surge of accomplishment hit his chest. The years of proving himself, of asking for permission and waiting for approval, were finished in a single moment.

"You won’t regret it, Father," Alex said, his voice entirely steady.

"I know I won’t," Arthur replied, leaning back and resting his hands over his stomach. "You’ve shown you know how to secure real leverage, Alex. You didn’t just bring in revenue; you put us in a position where the Ministry can’t push us around."

Arthur paused, his expression sharpening as he brought up the evening’s event.

"Tomorrow is your day," Arthur continued. "The reception at the Grand Pavilion will have every major family present. Make sure they see that the Livingston Group isn’t just surviving the recent market shifts—we’re directing them."

"I intend to," Alex said, standing up smoothly and adjusting his French cuffs.

"And Rivers?" Arthur asked quietly, watching his son’s reaction. "My sources confirmed he was sent an invitation."

Alex paused, his brow furrowing slightly. He hadn’t sent an invitation to Jake. A brief second later, the answer clicked in his head—Anna. She had gone behind his back and issued the invite herself.

Instead of irritating him, a cold, sharp smirk touched the corners of Alex’s lips.

"Jake thinks he’s the only one who knows how to move capital and build power in this city," Alex said softly, his tone filled with absolute confidence. "He’s going to stand in a room full of people who used to look down on me, and he’s going to realize that while he was busy fighting petty battles with Duke Timber, I took the entire board."

Arthur gave a single, firm nod of approval. "Go get some rest. We don’t wanna be late tomorrow and keep Anna waiting."

Alex turned and walked out of the study. As the oak doors clicked shut behind him, he paused in the quiet corridor, looking at his reflection in the polished marble wall.

He wasn’t the guy who needed a family sandbox to play in anymore. He was running the Livingston Group, holding liquid capital that could swallow standard competition, backed by the Roys name, and holding two of the most lucrative state contracts in Veyra.

’Enjoy your evening, Jake,’ Alex thought, his smirk widening as he walked toward his private wing. ’Because after tonight, you’re playing in my city.’

---

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting a warm, golden glow across the quiet master bedroom.

Jake sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting his wristwatch before slipping on his suit jacket. Behind him, the sheets rustled softly. Catharine shifted under the duvet, pulling it up around her shoulders as she looked up at him with half-lidded, sleepy eyes.

"Do you really have to go to that meeting?" Catharine asked softly, her voice trailing off into a gentle pout. "Can’t you just cancel it and spend the day with me?"

Jake turned his head, a faint, tender smile softening his usually sharp features. He leaned down, placing a light kiss on her forehead. "I’m sorry but I can’t. But don’t worry—we’re spending the entire evening together."

Catharine blinked, looking up in mild curiosity. "We are? Doing what?"

"We’re going to a wedding," Jake replied casually, standing up and smoothing down his lapels.

"A wedding?" Catharine sat up, the duvet falling around her waist as she stared at him in disbelief. "Jake! Why didn’t you tell me a few days ago? You can’t just drop a formal wedding invitation on me out of nowhere! What time is it? What am I going to wear?"

"I only got the invitation yesterday evening," Jake said with a dry chuckle, amused by her sudden burst of panic. "You have plenty of time."

"I don’t have time! Picking out a proper dress, hair, shoes... that takes hours, Jake!" Catharine threw off the covers and swung her legs out of bed, her face a mix of stress and exasperation. "I don’t even have an outfit ready for a high-society event!"

"Take Aliya with you," Jake suggested smoothly, walking over to hand her his personal credit card. "Go hit the high-end boutiques downtown and buy whatever you want. Take the entire afternoon."

Catharine looked at the card, then up at Jake, her panic easing into a fond, half-amused sigh. She snatched the card from his hand and shook her head. "You’re lucky I love shopping. But you’re still in trouble for giving me such short notice."

"I’ll accept the punishment later," Jake murmured, leaning in for one more quick kiss before heading out the door. "Have fun shopping."

---

By early afternoon, the atmosphere shift was absolute as Jake arrived at the Meridian Crown.

He sat at the head of the table, a single glass of iced water sitting untouched before him. He kept his expression guarded, his mind working through the mystery of this abrupt summons.

He had received the meeting request from Elizabeth Roys via Leon late last night. He had no direct relationship with Elizabeth, nor had he ever met or spoken to her notorious older brother, Derrick Roys. He knew the Roys name—everyone in the Republic did—as the absolute pinnacle of political and military influence. But why Elizabeth was suddenly reaching out off the record was something he had yet to figure out.

A sudden rumble drew Jake’s eyes toward the glass window looking down at the street level.

A massive, six-car motorcade of midnight-black, armored SUVs—each sporting heavy tinted glass and discreet military-grade escort flags—pulled into the Meridian Crown’s private courtyard. Traffic on the entire block had been subtly halted by local authorities just to clear her path. Dozens of suited security personnel spilled out instantly, forming a tight, impenetrable perimeter around the entrance.

Moments later, the door handle of the penthouse dining room clicked open.

Elizabeth Roys stepped into the room. She wore an immaculate ivory suit, her dark hair swept back, her expression carrying the usual cool, untouchable authority that defined her family line. The sheer weight of her presence filled the room—a reminder that to the Roys family, everyone else in Aurelia was merely playing in a sandbox they allowed to exist.

She took the seat opposite Jake, folding her hands over her lap. Her sharp, analytical eyes locked onto his, examining him like a grandmaster eyeing a newly acquired piece on a chessboard.

"You look remarkably relaxed for someone who is at war with the Ministry of Commerce," Elizabeth said smoothly, her voice cool and guarded.

Jake offered a faint, dry smile, leaning back in his chair. "Troy Husks declared war when he tried to threaten me. And I simply made a single post and did not mention anyone." He paused, meeting her cold gaze evenly. "Though I doubt you set up a high-security meeting on a few hours’ notice just to talk about the Ministry’s press conference."

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed by a fraction. She didn’t beat around the bush. She leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the table, her tone dropping into a low, sharp key.

"Derrick left the capital last night," Elizabeth stated directly.

Jake’s expression remained neutral, though an internal spark of caution fired in his mind. He had never interacted with Derrick Roys. He had no idea what went on behind the closed doors of the Roys estate, nor did he realize that his sudden rise in the financial sector had caught the eye of the future Chief Commander.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Jake asked calmly, keeping his tone carefully measured. "I’ve never met your brother."

Elizabeth let out a faint, almost imperceptible breath, her eyes searching his face. ’He really has no idea,’ she thought, her mind calculating the board. ’He doesn’t know Derrick was watching him. He doesn’t know I had to pull Father into a war just to keep Derrick from crushing him like an insect.’

To Elizabeth, Jake was an extraordinary piece—a brilliantly volatile pawn she had become utterly fixated on. She had fought Derrick to keep control of him, risking her brother’s lethal rage over a board piece she refused to lose. But Jake didn’t need to know that. He only needed to execute his role.

"It means everything to you, whether you realize it or not," Elizabeth said coldly. "Derrick isn’t like Troy Husks or Duke Timber. He doesn’t play with corporate audits or regulatory threats. Before he boarded his transport back to the northern border, he handed two massive state logistics contracts over to the Livingston family."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "The Northern Freight Corridor grant?"

"And the northern rail extension," Elizabeth confirmed. "He’s backing Alex Livingston. He’s building an economic wall around your expansion routes, using the Livingston-Brodick merger as his proxy."

Jake leaned back, processing the information. He didn’t know Derrick’s personal motives, but the strategic reality was clear: Alex Livingston was being handed state leverage to counter Golden Investments.

’That explains the bullish trend line above his head,’ Jake thought, a faint, dark smirk touching his lips.

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