Chapter 94 Exposing Their Massive Corporate Frauds
The question hung over the long table. The silence stretched until it felt brittle enough to snap. I stared at Harriet Montgomery. The matriarch waited for me to crumble, to cry, or to reach for the ten million dollars she dangled like a life raft.
Instead, I smiled.
It was a small, cold expression. It confused them. Frederick shifted in his chair. Beatrice blinked, adjusting her diamond necklace.
“Ten million dollars, I repeated. I let the number settle in the air. “A generous valuation for a stray dog from the industrial district.”
“It is a practical solution,” Harriet stated. “It solves the problem.”
“It solves your problem, I corrected. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the polished table. “It secures your voting shares. It keeps the Whitmore alliance intact. But your arithmetic is flawed, Harriet.”
“Do not address my grandmother by her first name,” Tristan snapped. His voice was rough, breaking his long silence.
I turned my head and looked at my husband. He finally found his voice, and he used it to enforce dinner etiquette. The disappointment hit me hard, settling deep in my chest.
‘I address her as an equal, I told Tristan. “Because she invited a CEO to her table, not a subordinate.”
I looked back at the matriarch.
“You call my company a gimmick,” I said, projecting my voice so every person in the room heard me clearly. ‘You call Aegis a temporary trend. You operate under the delusion that your wealth makes you untouchable. Let us examine the facts.”
I pointed a finger at Oliver Pembroke.
*Your grandfather built the steel mills, I acknowledged. A strong foundation. But your current board of directors approved a massive restructuring plan last quarter. They laid off two thousand workers. They slashed pensions. You did not innovate, Oliver. You cannibalized your workforce to maintain your dividend payouts.”
Oliver’s red face turned a mottled purple. “That is confidential corporate strategy!”
“It is a sign of decay,” I shot back. “You sit here judging my background, while you strip the livelihoods of the men and women who actually operate the machines that print your money.”
I shifted my gaze to Beatrice Langford. The older woman stiffened.
“You despise my lack of refinement, Beatrice, I continued. I kept my tone analytical, stripping the emotion from my words. “Yet, your luxury retail chain reported a fifteen percent drop in quarter-over-quarter revenue. The younger demographic finds your stores irrelevant. You sell outdated concepts of luxury to an aging clientele. My ‘gimmick’ company generates more online engagement in a single afternoon than your entire marketing department generates in a month.”
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Chapter 94 Exposing Their Massive Corporate Frauds
Beatrice opened her mouth, her face pale, but she failed to form a coherent defense.
I looked down the length of the table. I met the eyes of every Johnston relative, every legacy ally. I did not raise my voice. I did not shout. I dismantled their arrogance with cold, hard metrics.
‘You value pedigree, I told the silent room. “You value history. But history does not pay the bills in the modern market. Agility does. Innovation does. I built an empire from a rusted desk in Port Sterling because I understand what women actually need. You
sell them illusions. I sell them armor.
Celeste let out a sharp, forced laugh. The sound grated against the tension in the dining room.
“You sell them cheap lipstick, Celeste scoffed. She leaned toward Tristan again, seeking his support. He stared straight ahead, h
jaw locked tight. “You are a fraud, Minerva. You act like a visionary, but you are just a girl trying to play dress-up in our world. You
will never belong here.”
“I have no desire to belong here,” I said.
I looked at the pale blue silk of her dress. I looked at the diamond engagement ring flashing on her finger. I saw the desperate,
hollow reality of her life.
“You sit at this table, Celeste,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal register. “You wear the Johnston diamond. You attend the
charity galas. You project the perfect image of a legacy heiress. But what do you actually build?”
She glared at me, her chest heaving. “I oversee the Whitmore Foundation. We raise millions for charity.”
“You host parties,” I corrected. “You hire event coordinators to plan galas, and you take the credit for the donations. You rely on
your father’s wealth to buy your influence. If someone stripped away your trust fund tomorrow, you would not survive a week in the
real world.”
“That is enough, Frederick barked. He slapped his hand against the table. The silverware rattled. “You will not speak to our guests
with that tone.”
“I will speak the truth, I countered. “This family operates on hypocrisy. You demand loyalty, but you offer none. You demand
respect, but you only respect capital.”
I turned my attention back to Harriet Montgomery. The matriarch watched the entire exchange with an unreadable expression. She
did not interrupt. She let me expose the rot inside her inner circle.
“You want to buy my son,” I said, bringing the conversation back to the ten million dollars. You want to erase me from his life to
protect your corporate charter.”
“We offer a secure future, Harriet stated.
“You offer a cage,” I told her. “You want to raise him in this house. You want to surround him with people like Oliver and Beatrice.
People who judge a person by the balance of their bank account. People who view employees as numbers on a spreadsheet. You
want to teach him to be ruthless.”
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