Rage seeped from William’s every pore, warping the air around him like heat off asphalt. His previously good mood shattered into shards. In that moment, he felt he could strangle anyone who so much as irritated him.
Jennifer, sensing the fury pulsing off him, asked again, "Dad, what happened? Why are you so angry?"
William let out a bitter grunt. "What else? Elliot Grant. That son of a bitch."
The words burned on his tongue, but fury clogged his throat, halting further speech. He took several sharp breaths, forcing the fire down before it could consume him.
"He’s called an emergency shareholder meeting. Tomorrow." William’s voice was tight, clipped. "Because of the company’s recent downturn, some of the other shareholders have aligned with him. They’re planning to vote me out."
His jaw clenched so hard it looked as though he might crack a tooth.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Why are you even wasting emotion on those circus monkeys? They couldn’t move a single strand of your hair before... they won’t now."
"This time feels different," William muttered. "The company’s situation is worse than it’s ever been."
"Even if they all unite, they still can’t match our shares," Jennifer countered. "We’re the largest stakeholders, Dad. They can’t outvote us."
William’s eyes narrowed. "The moment I heard Eleanor was back in town, I suspected Grant would try something like this. Amnesia or not, if he manages to get her involved, it’ll become a problem."
Jennifer nodded, thoughtful. "Then let’s turn this on its head. Use this opportunity. Show the shareholders that we own the majority. Let them see the truth. Their alliance means nothing."
William looked at her, a hard glint in his eye. "Are you sure we should reveal the transfer deed?"
"I’m sure. It’s time we stopped playing defence. Use the meeting to claim the chairmanship outright. Let them start their rebellion... we’ll end it."
Her confidence was unwavering, sharp as a blade.
William gave a grim smile and nodded. The conversation about the wedding was swiftly set aside. He picked up his phone and began making calls to loyal shareholders, summoning support. Jennifer did the same, rallying her backers and locking down alliances. They had a strategy now. A plan built not just to survive, but to conquer.
With the battlefield forming in their minds, both father and daughter went to sleep, their thoughts already deep into tomorrow.
***
The conference room of EverBuild Solutions Limited buzzed with anticipation and tension.
It wasn’t yet nine, but already over a hundred shareholders had filled the room. The air was thick with murmurs and speculation. Staff members, notified the night before, had worked overtime to prepare for what would be one of the most pivotal meetings in the company’s history.
Temporary workers had been hired to assist the regulars. Extra security had been stationed at the entrances and key junctions, ready to ensure order. Everyone present had been told, a new chairman is coming.
Among the staff, hope flickered... tentative, fragile. Some dared to believe that fresh leadership might reverse the company’s downward spiral. Others remained sceptical, their optimism buried under the weight of years of decline and poor performance.
Still, one truth bound them all: something was going to change.
Whispers rippled through the room like a restless tide.
"Mr. Grant is taking over. They say he can’t watch the company crumble any longer."
"He was the co-founder," another voice added. "He built this company with Esmeralda Langford. If anyone has the right..."
"I heard William Whitmore is going to make it official. No more Acting Chairman."
"Or maybe someone completely new... someone we haven’t seen before."
The low murmur of chatter continued to hum through the conference room until the main shareholders and directors began arriving, one by one. Each ascended to the elevated dais at the front of the room, exchanging stiff nods and thin-lipped glances as anticipation rippled through the assembled crowd. The gathered shareholders lowered their voices to hushed tones, their murmurs bouncing off the polished mahogany-panelled walls.
From the leftmost seat sat Amelia Hawthorne, heir to a Midlands manufacturing empire. A striking woman in her forties, her tailored blue business suit highlighted her ageless elegance. Everyone in the room knew Amelia had little genuine concern for EverBuild’s future... her father had invested in its early days, and she had inherited the shares along with a detached sense of obligation.
Beside her sat Rupert Caldwell, a man with a ruddy complexion and bushy eyebrows, gripping his ever-present monogrammed cane like a ceremonial sceptre.
Next was Arabella Sinclair, dressed in a crisp grey office suit, her raven hair tucked behind one ear. She scanned the room with sharp, calculating eyes. Like Amelia, her family had been early investors in EverBuild.
Then came Elliot Grant, the second-largest shareholder. Towering and grave in a charcoal suit, he sat with his hands clasped, his piercing gaze flicking across the crowd like a judge surveying a courtroom.


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