**Chapter 593: The Transformation of the Sinclair Group**
Henry sat at his desk, staring at the notification before him as if it were a bolt of lightning that had struck out of nowhere. “What did you just say?” His voice trembled with disbelief, the words barely managing to escape his lips.
The secretary, her hands visibly shaking, stammered, “Skyreach Group has just informed us—they’re convening a board meeting tomorrow to officially take over Sinclair Group.”
“Absurd!” Henry’s voice erupted, reverberating off the walls like a thunderous clap. “Who do they think they are? What qualifications do they possess to even call a board meeting? This is Sinclair Group—our family’s legacy, not theirs!” The very notion felt like a dagger stabbing at his heart, twisting painfully with each passing moment.
The secretary flinched at his outburst, her hands trembling slightly. “But… the other board members received the same notice,” she replied, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.
Just then, the office door creaked open, and Morgan entered, leaning heavily on his cane. He surveyed the room, his gaze settling on the anxious secretary. “Leave us,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
With a hurried nod, she slipped out, leaving Henry and Morgan alone in the suffocating silence of the office.
Slumping back into his chair, Henry tugged at his tie, frustration radiating from him like heat from a furnace. “Dad, what brings you here?” he asked, irritation lacing his voice, a mix of concern and anger boiling beneath the surface.
Morgan lowered himself into the chair opposite Henry, his movements deliberate and slow, as if each action took immense effort. “I heard the news, so I thought it best to come and see for myself,” he replied, his voice heavy with the weight of years. His eyes wandered around the office, taking in the memories embedded in the walls—the laughter, the struggles, the triumphs. “When Sinclair Group began, we were just a small operation in a rundown building, barely scraping by. Each step forward was a struggle, but with the launch of our first product, we built our foundation brick by brick. After Catherine’s arrival, everything changed. The company soared to heights we never imagined. But since her passing, we’ve been stagnant. In recent years, it’s been glaringly obvious—we’re in decline. I’ve pondered this deeply. Perhaps this is retribution—a way of returning everything that belonged to Catherine.”
“I refuse to believe it!” Henry’s voice cracked, his frustration boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove. “I don’t believe in retribution!” The thought felt like an insult, a betrayal to everything they had worked for, everything their family had built.
Morgan sighed deeply, the weight of the world evident in his weary eyes. “Henry, you must confront reality. Skyreach Group has made significant advancements in medicine that we could never hope to match. Maybe allowing them to take over is the best course of action. It might be time to lay down this burden and ease your load.”
Henry buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he spoke, the despair threatening to consume him. “I can’t accept this, Dad. I just can’t. Sinclair Group represents the blood, sweat, and tears of two generations of our family, and now it’s crumbling in my grasp. How could I not feel this bitterness? And it’s the same formula, the same herbs—so why did the tests reveal issues? It doesn’t make sense!”
Morgan regarded him with tired eyes, filled with a mix of understanding and sorrow. “Perhaps the moment you made your first move, the trap was already laid. You believed you were the one in control of the game, but in reality, you were merely a pawn on someone else’s board. You just didn’t realize it. It’s late now. Let’s go home. Don’t make your mother worry.”
With those words, he rose slowly, each step heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets, his back stooped and fragile as he made his way out.
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