Chapter 230: Hidden Hand

Chapter 230: Chapter 230: Hidden Hand

The high-speed elevator descended from the 50th floor of Newman Enterprise Group in total silence. Finn held his breath the entire way down, watching the floor indicator numbers drop with terrifying speed. Beside him, Ray leaned casually against the mirrored wall, while Richard stood in the center, hands tucked into his slacks, expression unreadable.

The moment the doors glided open into the subterranean parking garage, Finn couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Dad, what was that back there?" Finn asked, stepping around his father to block his path to the waiting black Maybach. "You just gave Troy everything he needed to strip you of the chairmanship! As soon as those shares transfer to Golden Investments on Monday, your holding drops from thirty-three percent to twenty-three. Troy will call for a family council vote by noon!"

"Let him call it," Richard said calmly, pulling a silver key fob from his pocket.

"Dad, be serious!" Finn pressed, his voice rising in panic. "The corporate bylaws aren’t a suggestion! Twenty-three percent automatically triggers a vote of no confidence. Troy controls thirteen percent, Mary has seven, and with the rest of the dissatisfied directors rallying behind them, they have more than enough votes to oust you!"

Ray tossed his high-end pen up in the air and caught it, letting out a soft chuckle. "Relax, Finn. You really think Dad spent thirty years building this firm just to get outplayed by Uncle Troy in a twenty-minute meeting?"

Finn glared at his brother. "If you’re so smart, Ray, why don’t you explain the math to me? Where is the other seven percent coming from?"

Richard didn’t answer right away. He unlocked the Maybach, the headlights flashing twice in the dim garage. He opened the rear door, paused, and looked back at Finn over his shoulder.

"Do you remember the Shell Corporation we established in Saint Kitts four years ago during the logistics expansion in the Western Province?" Richard asked quietly. "Vanguard Harbor Holdings?"

Finn blinked, processing the name. "Vanguard Harbor? Yeah, I remember. We used it to acquire the coastal dock leases anonymously so competitors wouldn’t hike up the land prices. What does that have to do with this?"

"Vanguard Harbor Holdings isn’t just a land-holding proxy," Richard revealed, a cold, calculating glint appearing in his eyes. "It holds a five-point-eight percent equity block in Newman Enterprise Group—shares bought quietly on the open market over the last three years through subsidiary accounts."

Finn’s jaw dropped slightly. "Five... five-point-eight percent?"

"Combined with my thirty-three percent, my actual control over this company has been thirty-eight-point-eight percent all along," Richard stated flatly. "Tomorrow, when I transfer the ten percent to Jake Rivers, I’ll take seven percent from my primary holding and three percent from Vanguard Harbor. My official personal stake will show as twenty-six percent, but with Vanguard’s remaining two-point-eight percent, I will hold twenty-eight-point-eight percent."

Finn quickly ran the figures in his head, but his expression remained grim. "Dad... twenty-eight-point-eight percent is still under thirty. You’re still short by one-point-two percent to prevent the family council from invoking the bylaws."

"I know," Richard said smoothly. He turned his gaze directly toward Ray. "And you being the VP, your stake shouldn’t drop when there are alternatives."

Ray stopped playing with his pen. The lighthearted smirk on his face slowly faded as he realized why his father was looking at him.

"Oh, no," Ray said, taking a half-step back. "No way. Absolutely not."

"You hold one-point-three percent, Ray," Richard said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You sign one-point-two percent over to my private trust by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. That puts my total holding back at exactly thirty percent. Troy’s motion for a vote of no confidence will be dead before it even reaches the table."

"Dad, that leaves me with zero-point-one percent!" Ray protested, his voice losing its usual lazy indifference. "That’s basically nothing! I won’t even have a seat at the annual gala!"

"You’ll have whatever I decide to leave you in my will," Richard snapped, his eyes darkening. "Or would you prefer I strip your executive salary, revoke your company black card, and leave you to pay off your luxury sports car collection on your own?"

Ray opened his mouth to argue, but looking at his father’s uncompromising expression, he swallowed his pride and bit his tongue. "Fine," Ray muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. "One-point-two percent. But you owe me for this."

"I owe you nothing," Richard said coldly, stepping into the back seat of the Maybach. "Get in the car. We have a meeting with the legal team."

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Late that evening, inside a dimly lit private lounge overlooking the city’s central gardens, Stuart Sheele sat behind a massive desk carved from solid black granite. As the Chairman of the Sheele Group—the country’s reigning real estate titan—Stuart carried an aura of heavy, immovable authority.

A sleek phone on his desk vibrated silently against a leather coaster. Stuart glanced at the encrypted caller ID, his thick eyebrows rising slightly. He reached down and clicked the line open.

"Arthur," Stuart greeted, his voice deep and resonant. "It’s rare for the financial titan to dial my personal line past eight PM. To what do I owe the honor?"

Across the city, inside the top-floor study of the Vale residence, Arthur Vale swirled a glass of neat bourbon, looking out at the skyline.

"Just checking in on an old friend, Stuart," Arthur replied smoothly, his raspy voice carrying a calm, unhurried weight. "I hear the Sheele Group’s Q3 commercial acquisitions are outpacing expectations."

"We don’t rely on expectations, Arthur; we rely on land," Stuart said flatly, cutting through the pleasantries. "Let’s skip the preamble. You didn’t call to compliment my quarterly reports. What’s on your mind?"

Arthur let out a low, dry chuckle. "Direct as always. Very well. I’m calling regarding the Newman Enterprise Group."

Stuart’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He leaned back in his leather chair, resting his hands over his stomach. "The Newmans? What about them?"

"I know you’ve been eyeing the Newman Group for a while now to solidify the Sheele Group’s absolute monopoly as rank one in real estate," Arthur said, taking a measured sip of his bourbon. "Their commercial land bank in the northern transit corridor is something you’ve wanted on your ledger for three years. I’m calling to make sure you don’t step in and interrupt Jake Rivers while he’s dealing with them."

Silence stretched over the line for three full seconds, thick with the unsaid rivalry of two men who had controlled the country’s economy for decades.

Stuart let out a cold, sharp breath. "The Sheele family doesn’t need a mere Newman Group to keep our top spot, Arthur. Our foundation doesn’t shake because of a mid-tier logistics outfit."

He shifted forward, resting his forearms heavily on the granite desk.

"However," Stuart continued, his tone dropping an octave, "that is still a difficult request you’re asking of me. I was ready to make my move against the Newmans this very week while their liquidity was stretched, and now some brat is messing it all up. Do you realize the position you’re putting me in?"

Arthur didn’t interrupt, letting the old real estate mogul vent his leverage.

"When your son Adrian and his friends started Aurelia Capitals," Stuart said, his voice sharpening, "I honored your request back then and didn’t lift a finger while they swallowed up construction subsidiaries to push Aurelia Capitals into the rank two spot right under us. I let that slide because Marcus is the CEO of Aurelia. But now this Jake Rivers—a twenty-three-year-old outsider—is going directly after the now third-ranked real estate and logistics holding in the sector. You expect me to just sit back on my hands a second time?"

"Jake Rivers isn’t just an outsider, Stuart," Arthur said calmly, his voice cold and steady. "He holds fifteen percent of Newman Enterprise as of this afternoon, backed by the raw steel monopoly of the Meridian Group and direct clearing lines through Vanguard Institutional. If you move against Newman right now, you won’t just be buying land—you’ll be picking a financial fight with a kid who holds over a hundred billion in unencumbered liquidity."

"Liquidity doesn’t scare me, Arthur," Stuart countered coldly. "Land is permanent. Cash is just paper."

"Cash is paper until it freezes your secondary credit lines," Arthur replied softly. "You and I both know the commercial banks are overleveraged on the North Concourse shopping complexes. If Jake decides to short those development bonds out of spite because you interfered with his play, the Sheele Group’s debt-to-equity ratio takes a fifteen percent hit before the end of the month."

Stuart’s jaw tightened. Arthur had hit the exact nerve he had been trying to keep off the public domain.

"So, you’re shielding the boy," Stuart remarked, his voice dripping with dangerous curiosity. "What’s Vale Financial’s cut in this?"

"My cut is long-term stability for the coastal rail expansion," Arthur stated flatly. "And a smooth transition of power at the Meridian Group that benefits both our sons’ venture at Aurelia Capitals."

Stuart remained silent, weighing the strategic variables in his head. The old-money veteran in him hated backing down from a territorial expansion, but Arthur’s math was undeniably precise. Fighting both Jake Rivers’ liquid cash and risking Vale Financial’s credit friction over a mid-tier target like Newman was bad business.

"I won’t move against the Newman Group," Stuart finally conceded, his voice hard as iron. "But I don’t give up prime land for free, Arthur. You know how I operate."

"Name it," Arthur said smoothly.

"The commercial zoning permits for the South Bay harbor district," Stuart demanded, leaning into the phone. "The Ministry of Trade has been sitting on those papers. I want Vale Financial to release the secondary underwriting guarantees for the Sheele Group’s harbor project by tomorrow noon. If we take South Bay, I’ll leave the northern transit corridor—and the Newmans—to your prodigy."

Arthur smiled faintly into the darkness of his study. It was a steep price, but well within the margins of what Vale Financial could absorb.

"The underwriting guarantees will be on your desk by ten AM tomorrow, Stuart," Arthur agreed softly. "It’s always a pleasure doing business with a man who understands the bigger picture."

"Just make sure this Jake Rivers is as sharp as you claim he is," Stuart grunted, preparing to disconnect. "If he slips up and leaves the Newman Group bleeding, I won’t hesitate to step in and sweep up the bones—underwriting guarantees or not."

"He won’t mess up," Arthur said softly.

The line went dead.

Arthur set his glass on the side table, looking out over the glowing spires of the city. Down below, the gears of the grandest financial machine were turning exactly as intended.

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