Chapter 596
Chapter 596:
A woman in a fur coat, flanked by soldiers, marched in. She didn’t look concerned. She looked murderous.
“You dog!” she screamed, slapping the bedridden Zhao across the face. “You spent my father’s money on whores p>
“Honey, wait, I can explain—” Zhao cried, waving his casted arms helplessly.
“Seize everything,” Mrs. Zhao ordered her soldiers. “The house, the cars, the accounts. Leave him nothing but the hospital bill p>
Simultaneously, Skye executed a digital raid on Zhao’s legitimate assets. She didn’t write the code herself—that was Harper’s job—but she directed the strike, identifying the shell companies Zhao used to hide his money.
“His assets are frozen,” Skye said, closing her laptop. “His wife is divorcing him. His warlord father-in-law wants him dead. Director Zhao is no longer a threat p>
“Efficient,” Alistair said, admiring her ruthlessness.
“I learned from the best,” Skye replied.
But the victory was short-lived. Felix walked in, looking grim.
“Boss, we have a problem. The Board of Directors for the Overseas Division. Parker called an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning p>
“He can’t,” Alistair said. “I’m the Chairman p>
“He’s invoking the Incapacity Clause,” Felix said. “He’s claiming that your violent outburst in the square proves you are mentally unstable and unfit to lead. He has the votes to remove you p>
“If they vote me out,” Alistair said, eyes narrowing, “Parker takes control of the entire Port Valor infrastructure legally. He won’t need to steal it; he’ll own it p>
“Then we go to that meeting,” Skye said, standing up. “And we remind them who really owns the board p>
“They’re scared of Parker,” Alistair warned. “Parker has their digital secrets. He’s Nightcrawler, remember? He knows every skeleton in their closets p>
“Then we need something stronger than dirt,” Skye said. She walked to the mirror, adjusting her dress. “We need gold. And we need to show them that Oracle Holdings has a bigger checkbook p>
𝗣D𝖥s 𝗼n 𝘣𝗲.c𝗼𝗺
The boardroom of Thorne Tower was a glass box suspended fifty stories above the slums. It was air-conditioned, sterile, and filled with men who smelled of fear.
Parker Hayes sat at the head of the table. He looked confident—smug, even. Lucian wasn’t there; he was too smart to show his face in a legal proceeding, but his presence was felt.
“Gentlemen,” Parker said, checking his watch, “Mr. Thorne is late. Typical disregard for protocol. I move that we proceed with the vote of no confidence p>
“Seconded,” a sweaty board member mumbled.
“All in favor?” Parker asked.
Hands started to rise. One. Two. Five.
The door slammed open.
Alistair walked in. He didn’t look like a man on trial. He looked like an executioner. He wore a black suit, his movements fluid and dangerous.
Skye walked beside him, wearing a white power suit that was a stark contrast to the dark room. She carried a briefcase.
“Sorry we’re late,” Alistair said, pulling out the empty chair directly to Parker’s right. He didn’t sit at the far end; he took the predator’s seat, close enough to smell Parker’s cologne. “I was busy cleaning up the trash in the square p>