Chapter 266: He’s Too Strong For Me

Chapter 266: Chapter 266: He’s Too Strong For Me

Inside the dimly lit study of the Newman family estate, heavy silence hung over the room like lead.

Richard Newman sat slumped behind his massive mahogany desk, staring blankly at a printed copy of The Sentinel’s public retraction notice. The glowing lamp on the desk cast long, sickly shadows across his pale, sunken face.

Finn paced back and forth across the rich Persian rug, clutching an iPad with white knuckles, his eyes bloodshot and wide with anxiety. Beside the window, Ray sat in a plush leather armchair, his foot tapping in a rapid, neurotic rhythm against the floorboards.

"It didn’t work," Finn said, his voice laced with crackling panic. "I spoke with the chief editor at The Sentinel right after Troy forced them to publish the retraction. He said Golden Investments didn’t even acknowledge receipt of the apology notice. They ignored it completely."

"A retraction?!" Ray let out a dry, frantic laugh, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair and rubbing his face in disgust. "Did Troy actually think a printed apology was going to stop Jake Rivers? Troy ruined our entire family in a single night!"

"Shut up about Troy!" Richard slammed his open palm onto the heavy desk, making the crystal decanters and desk accessories rattle violently. "Panicking isn’t going to save us! Monday morning is less than twelve hours away, and our stock is going to open under immense pressure!"

"Dad," Finn stopped in his tracks, his hands shaking as he gripped his tablet. His eyes were completely hollow. "We’ve called every commercial bank in Veyra. No one is willing to underwrite an emergency liquidity line before the opening bell. They all know Jake Rivers is coming for us. What else do we have left?"

Richard leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, staring blankly at the ornate ceiling molding above. A suffocating, crushing silence lingered over the study for nearly a full minute before he finally spoke, his tone low, gravelly, and drained of all warmth.

"There is one person," Richard murmured. "Someone with enough raw liquidity and political weight to stand between us and Golden Investments."

Finn’s eyes widened sharply. "Who?"

"Lord Sheele," Richard replied slowly, turning his desperate gaze toward his sons. "If I pledge thirty percent of our primary commercial real estate holdings as collateral, he can talk to Jake Rivers directly. And if that still doesn’t work, he can inject enough instant liquidity to absorb whatever short pressure Rivers throws at us tomorrow."

Ray sat up straight, his forehead creasing in absolute disbelief as a cold sweat broke out across his neck. "Thirty percent?! Dad, that’s almost the entire backbone of our commercial yield! We’d be handing him the keys to the kingdom! Remember what happened before? Lord Sheele tried to swallow the Newman Group whole, and you had to use Jake Rivers as a shield to keep him off our backs! Now you want to bring him back in?!"

"Do we have a choice?!" Richard snapped, his eyes flashing with a terrifying mix of rage and desperate panic. "If Jake Rivers wipes out our market cap tomorrow, thirty percent of zero is still zero! It’s a calculated gamble, but it’s the only shield we have left!"

Finn looked at Ray, then back to his father, his jaw tight and teeth clenched. "Ray... he’s right. It’s better than going to zero. If we don’t survive Monday, we won’t have a company left to manage anyway. Call him, Dad."

Richard picked up his encrypted landline, his fingers trembling visibly as he pressed the series of numbers. He pressed the speaker button, setting the receiver down on the desk.

The line rang three agonizingly long times before picking up.

"Richard?" A calm, dry voice echoed softly through the speaker. There was no warmth in the tone, but more importantly, there was no surprise. "To what do I owe a late-night call from the head of the Newman family? What could you possibly want from a fragile old man like me?"

Finn and Ray exchanged a tight, nervous glance. Hearing Stuart Sheele—the supreme patriarch who commanded one of Veyra’s five major commercial conglomerates—refer to himself as a "fragile old man" was an immediate red flag. It was a clear, calculated signal that he had zero intention of making this easy.

Richard swallowed hard, discarding any attempt at pleasantries or corporate diplomacy. He knew better than to play games with Stuart.

"Lord Sheele," Richard began, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the tremors in his chest. "I won’t waste your time. I am calling regarding my brother Troy’s foolish ploy. His reckless actions have forced a confrontation, and Jake Rivers is no longer just targeting Troy—he is actively moving to liquidate the entire Newman Enterprise Group when the market opens."

Richard paused, his throat dry, before uttering the words that pained him to his core. "I am asking you to intervene, Lord Sheele. Save my family from Rivers’ tyranny."

A long, quiet chuckle filtered through the line—slow, rhythmic, and chillingly relaxed.

"Ah, young Rivers," Stuart said smoothly, the sound of a tea saucer clinking softly in the background. "An ambitious young man, isn’t he? But alas, Richard... you call me too late. Someone of great importance has already approached me and made me swear a firm oath not to step between the Newmans and Jake Rivers."

Richard’s eyes narrowed sharply. He didn’t buy the "oath" for a second. He knew Stuart Sheele’s nature all too well. The patriarch wasn’t turning him down; he was simply raising the curtain on the negotiation, demanding to see what tribute the Newmans were willing to bleed before he even considered lifting a finger.

"I am willing to pledge thirty percent of the Newman Group’s primary commercial real estate portfolio as direct collateral," Richard declared flatly, putting his heavy card on the table. "In exchange, you step in, mediate with Rivers, or back our order books against his short position."

Silence stretched over the phone line. When Stuart finally spoke again, his voice was laced with exaggerated, theatrical sighing.

"Thirty percent of your commercial yield..." Stuart mused softly. "A tempting offer in ordinary times, Richard. But Jake Rivers is no ordinary competitor. He is a massive, relentless shark in these waters. Even if I step in to clash with him on your behalf, the capital damage to my own reserves could be immense, even if I win. Is it really worth the risk for me to provoke such a beast over your family’s mistake?"

Finn and Ray looked at each other, their faces pale.

"Dad..." Finn whispered in horror, leaning over the desk. "Even Lord Sheele is afraid to clash with Jake Rivers? Is Rivers really that untouchable now?!"

Richard shot Finn a razor-sharp glare, raising a hand to silence him. Unlike his sons, Richard saw straight through Stuart’s delicate, artificial hesitation. It wasn’t fear—it was predatory greed. Stuart was deliberately painting Jake as an insurmountable monster to squeeze every last drop of blood out of the Newman family while they were pinned against the wall.

Seeing Richard hesitate on the line, Stuart let out another soft, dismissive hum.

"It seems you need time to properly weigh the gravity of your situation, Richard," Stuart said smoothly, his tone impossibly calm. "I am an old man, and my bedtime has long passed. I will give you twenty-four hours to think it over carefully. Goodnight."

Click.

The line went completely dead, leaving only the harsh, rhythmic dial tone echoing through the silent study.

Ray fell back into his armchair, staring at the phone in sheer terror. "Dad... do you think there’s still a chance he’ll help us? What if he really refuses to go against Rivers?!"

Richard slowly reached out and pressed the button to disconnect the line, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheek twitched violently. His bloodshot eyes stared into the darkness of the room.

"He’s not refusing," Richard said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, icy whisper. "He’s just sharpening his knife. The price to save ourselves from Jake Rivers is going to be far, far steeper than thirty percent..."

"Then we can’t do it!" Ray practically leaped out of his armchair, his hands shaking in frantic protest. "Dad, if thirty percent isn’t enough, he’s going to demand fifty! Or sixty! He’ll strip the Newman Group down to its bare bones and leave us as glorified middle managers in our own company! We might as well fight Jake Rivers ourselves when the market opens!"

"Fight him with what?!" Finn snapped, rounding on his brother with eyes blazing in desperation. "Are you out of your mind, Ray? With what capital?! We have fifty million in credit, and Jake is going to hit us with hundreds of millions in short volume the moment the bell rings! Facing Jake alone tomorrow morning is financial suicide!"

"And giving Stuart Sheele control of our core assets isn’t suicide?!" Ray shouted back, stepping up to Finn, chest to chest. "It’s just choosing a slower, more painful death! At least against Jake, we have a fighting chance if the market retail buyers don’t panic!"

"There is no fighting chance!" Finn yelled, slamming his hand onto the back of the sofa. "Jake has the Roys family behind him, he has Apex Plaza momentum, and the entire public is waiting for his signal! If we don’t bring in Sheele, we go to zero by noon!"

"Quiet! Both of you, shut up!" Richard roared, slamming his fists onto the desk.

The two brothers froze, breathing heavily, the air in the study suffocatingly tense as Richard buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling under the crushing weight of the decision.

"Agree to Stuart."

A smooth, relaxed voice cut through the heavy silence from the shadows near the doorway.

All three men spun around sharply.

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