Chapter 267: Poison Pill (Bonus - )

Chapter 267: Chapter 267: Poison Pill (Bonus Chapter)

Leaning casually against the doorframe was Sam Newman—Richard’s youngest son. He wore a crisp, unbuttoned silk shirt, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, a faint, unbothered smile resting on his face.

Richard’s face flushed with instant fury, his bloodshot eyes bulging. "Sam?! What the hell are you doing out of your quarters?!" Richard shouted, his voice echoing violently off the study walls. "You are under house arrest! Who gave you permission to step foot in this study?!"

Sam walked calmly into the room, stepping over the threshold with absolute, unhurried composure. His smile widened slightly, completely unfazed by his father’s explosive anger.

"Relax, Dad," Sam said smoothly, gliding over to take a seat on the corner of the heavy mahogany desk, crossing his legs. "I figured since I’m not the one who completely ruined the family this time, I could at least come out and get some fresh air. Being locked up on house arrest all this time has been terribly draining, you know."

Ray glared at his younger brother, his jaw clenching tightly, while Finn let out an exhausted, deeply irritated sigh.

"You think this is a joke, Sam?" Finn muttered bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head throbbed. "The entire enterprise is about to collapse."

"I know," Sam replied softly, his eyes glinting with a cold, sharp intelligence beneath his relaxed demeanor. He looked directly at Richard. "Which is why I’m telling you... take Stuart Sheele’s poison pill. Pay whatever price the old monster demands."

Richard narrowed his eyes, his rage slowly yielding to a tense, suspicious glare. "Explain yourself, Sam."

"It’s simple," Sam said, leaning forward slightly, his nonchalant smile fading into a focused, calculating look. "Jake Rivers wants our blood. He wants to wipe us off the board entirely to make an example out of us. If we face him alone, he wins, we lose everything, and the Newman name becomes a footnote in Veyra’s financial history."

Sam raised a single finger. "But if we bring in Stuart Sheele... yes, Stuart will bleed us dry. Yes, he will extort us for half our empire. But Stuart Sheele is a titan. The moment he steps into the ring, Jake Rivers is no longer just fighting the Newman Group—he’s forced into a direct war of attrition with the Sheele Conglomerate."

Sam’s lips curled back into a subtle, dangerous grin as he looked at his father and brothers.

"Let the two sharks tear each other apart in the deep water, Dad. Even if Stuart bleeds us, a bleeding empire is still an empire. We survive next week, we let Sheele soak up Jake’s wrath, and we live to fight another day."

Silence settled over the study once more. Richard stared at his youngest son, the heavy, agonizing reality of Sam’s words sinking deep into his chest.

"Does the board know about any of this yet?" Sam asked casually, adjusting his cuffs.

"The board?!" Richard snapped, his temper flaring right back up as he pointed an accusing finger at Sam. "This was all your fault to begin with! If you hadn’t messed with the Rivers family in the first place, Troy wouldn’t have felt pushed to go after Jake to fix your mess!"

Sam blinked, holding up his hands in feigned innocence. "Why is the blame falling back on me? Troy is a grown man who acted on his own foolish pride."

"Because my position as CEO was already hanging by a thread when I shielded you from the board!" Richard growled, his voice trembling with bitter resentment. "If the board finds out that my brother just handed Jake Rivers a war declaration right after my son crippled our reputation, they won’t just remove me—they’ll strip our entire branch of our voting shares!"

"Alright, that’s enough," Ray interrupted sharply, stepping toward Sam and gesturing toward the exit. "Go back to your confinement, Sam, before Dad completely loses it. You’re not helping."

Sam looked at the three of them—his father red-faced and sweating, his brothers pale and trembling—and slowly shook his head with a slight smirk, as if amused that they were treating him like the sole villain when the entire family was rotten to the core. Without another word, he pushed off the desk and strolled out of the study, sliding his hands back into his pockets.

Richard took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the black landline telephone sitting on his desk. His fingers hovered over the keypad for a long moment before he punched in the encrypted sequence once again.

The call didn’t even ring twice before the line picked up.

"Back so soon, Richard?" Stuart Sheele’s voice drifted through the speaker, laced with faint amusement, as if he had been sitting by the phone counting the seconds. "I thought I gave you twenty-four hours to ponder your demise."

"I don’t need twenty-four hours, Lord Sheele," Richard said, his tone dead, hollowed out by absolute submission. "The Newman Enterprise Group will sign over fifty percent of our commercial yield holdings directly to the Sheele Conglomerate... upon the successful repelling of Golden Investments’ short offensive."

A low, satisfied hum vibrated through the receiver. The old predator had gotten exactly what he wanted.

"A far more sensible offer," Stuart purred smoothly. "Fifty percent ensures my full attention. I see no problem with these terms. My legal team will deliver the transfer contracts to your desk before sunrise."

Stuart paused briefly, the sound of paper rustling over the line. "To ensure your order books do not collapse during the morning bell, I am authorizing an immediate capital injection of five hundred million marks into your primary clearing account. That should keep young Rivers at bay while I have a formal word with him."

Richard closed his eyes, relief and humiliating defeat washing over him in equal measure. "Thank you, Lord Sheele."

"Don’t thank me yet, Richard," Stuart chuckled softly before hanging up. "Now... let us see how sharp young Rivers’ teeth truly are.

---

Later that night, the sleek phone resting on the solid black granite desk inside Stuart Sheele’s private lounge vibrated silently against a leather coaster once more.

Stuart glanced at the encrypted caller ID, seeing Arthur Vale’s name flashing across the glass screen. He didn’t look surprised in the slightest. He slowly picked up the receiver and clicked the line open.

"Arthur," Stuart greeted smoothly, taking a slow sip of warm tea. "Calling twice in less than two weeks? You must really miss my voice."

Across the city inside his top-floor study, Arthur Vale stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding his glass of neat bourbon. His raspy voice carried a sharp, cold edge that hadn’t been there during their previous conversation.

"Stuart," Arthur said flatly, skipping any semblance of pleasantries. "I just received a private notification about a transaction. Five hundred million marks were just wired out of a Sheele Group secondary treasury account directly into the Newman Enterprise Group’s prime clearing ledger. Care to explain what that is?"

Stuart let out a low, comfortable laugh, leaning back into his leather chair. "It’s called business, Arthur. A simple capital injection."

"Business?" Arthur’s voice lowered, dropping into a dangerous, icy tone. "We had a deal, Stuart. You gave me your word—and accepted the South Bay harbor district underwriting guarantees from Vale Financial—promising you would stand down and stay completely out of the way while Jake Rivers dealt with the Newmans."

"And I kept my word," Stuart replied smoothly, his tone impossibly calm. "I haven’t moved against the Newmans, nor am I taking their northern transit land bank for myself. But Richard Newman came to my door on his knees tonight, terrified out of his mind, offering me fifty percent of his entire commercial yield if I back their order books tomorrow."

"So you decided to break our agreement for a fifty percent cut?" Arthur remarked, his eyes narrowing into razor-thin slits.

"I didn’t break a thing, Arthur," Stuart countered, resting his forearms heavily on the granite desk as his voice sharpened. "Your deal was for me not to swallow the Newmans myself or interfere with your prodigy’s play. But I am a businessman, Arthur! When a desperate man hands me half his empire on a silver platter just to survive the night, I’m not going to turn money away. Besides, five hundred million is just a shield so they don’t implode at the opening bell. If Jake Rivers is half as sharp as you claim he is, five hundred million won’t even slow him down."

Arthur remained silent for a long moment, the quiet swirling of his bourbon echoing in the quiet study.

"You’re testing him," Arthur stated softly.

"I’m testing the market," Stuart corrected with a faint, predatory smirk. "If the boy wants to sit at the top table with us, he needs to prove he can cut through a five-hundred-million-mark wall backed by the Sheele name. If he wipes out that liquidity and crushes them anyway, he gets his revenge and I get fifty percent of what’s left of the Newman Group for doing absolutely nothing. If he fails... well, then he was never a real shark to begin with."

Arthur let out a dry, quiet chuckle into the receiver, shaking his head faintly.

"You always did love playing both sides of the board, Stuart," Arthur said softly, his tone completely unbothered now. "Just make sure you don’t burn your fingers when Jake turns that five hundred million into his own personal capital."

"Let him try," Stuart grunted, preparing to hang up. "Tomorrow morning, we’ll see if your golden boy can actually bite."

The line went dead.

Arthur set his glass down on the marble side table, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the glowing city skyline.

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