The Withman estate glittered under crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses clinking as Stella twirled around in a silver gown, her engagement ring catching the light.
"Yo my beautiful fiancée," Ethan Montgomery announced loudly as he raised his glass, smirking at the crowd of socialites. "And to the end of unfortunate…entanglement."
Laughter rippled through the room as everyone looked at each other with a knowing look. In the far corner, Morana Withman whispered loudly, "Thank God that impotent waste of space signed the divorce papers. Did you see his face when the DNA results came in? Priceless."
Stella smiled widely. "Six years of pretending to love that peasant. At least the prenup guarantees he leaving us with nothing."
Ethan pulled her close lovingly and breathed, "Speaking of nothing….I am finalizing the Parkinson Group contract tomorrow. My father's friendship with the old CEO practically guarantees we will win the bid."
The air buzzed with as a murmur of approval swept through their guest. No one noticed a server in the corner, hiding under the shadows…snapping photos of the celebration with a burner telephone.
Upstairs, Ethan poured a bottle of whiskey for his father, Charles Montgomery, and Stella's elder brothers—Finn and Elliot Withman, the CEO and General manager of Withman's group.
"The Parkinson's contract is worth two hundred million dollars," Ethan said, sliding the bid documents across the desk. "But there is a….complication."
Finn's gold pen paused and he asked slowly, "What complication?"
"The old man's will. Rumor says he left everything to some long lost grandson." Charles Montgomery scoffed. "Probably a paperwork error which will be rectified soon. Jonathan Parkinson hated his son…no way he would acknowledge a grandson."
Elliot relaxed and smiled. "The we proceed. Once the board approves our bid, we will control the largest medical supply chain on the East coast."
In a dimly lit parking garage, Marcus Foster crushed a cigarette under his expensive boot. "Are you sure about the will?"
Matthew, his disgruntled personal assistant nodded. "The will is airtight and placed under heavy security. But here is the good news—if Jace fails to hold the shares for one year, everything goes to you as the nearest Foster relative."
Marcus cracked his knuckles and snarled, "Then we make sure he fails. Leak the Parkinson's Group internal documents out to the bidders. Let them low bid the contract. When the stock plummets, Jace will panic and sell."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Marcus grinned. "Then I will persuade him."
Stella scrolled through her phone, pausing on a gossip site's headline…
BROKE AND BROKEN: JACE PARKER SPOTTED IN THRIFT STORE AFTER DIVORCE.
She zoomed in on the blurry picture of Jace in a faded hoodie, his face shrunken. "Pathetic," she muttered and forwarded it to Ethan with the caption…
"Our charity case needs a job. She we hire him as a cleaner?"
Ethan replied instantly, "Only if he cleans our wedding venue efficiently."
"Oh he will be thankful, don't you worry.."
The Parkinson's Group headquarters air was cold as the building loomed like a huge steel fortress. Ethan straightened his tie as the elevator doors opened to the executive floor—and froze.
A thick wall of black suited lawyers stood all around the boardroom. At the head of the table sat a dark skinned advanced man with shiny bald head.
"Mr Montgomery. Take your seat please." The man's voice was smooth, unfamiliar. "I am Mr Reynolds. I am the CEO personal assistant."
"Oh. I was told it was just going to be a small meeting" Ethan replied calmly. "The CEO and I."
"I am sorry for the change of plans," Mr Reynolds gave a courteous nod. "Back to Buisness. Your bid is…lacking."
Ethan's confidence wavered as he removed the smirk off his face. "Our terms are more than fair—"
"Fair?" Mr Reynold slid a folder across the table. "Your company's last clinical testing and trial killed over six patients. You hid the data. We know."
Ethan's throat went dry and his eyes burgled in shock. Impossible. Those records were buried.
Mr Reynolds continued briskly, "But we are….merciful. Redo your bid. Triple the upfront payment. Add twenty equity stake on Montgomery Medical. And—" He paused. A small smile tugging on his lips. "Personally guaranteed by Finn Whitman offshore accounts."
Elliot choked. Spraying water all over his well tailored suit. "That's extortion!"
Mr Reynolds stood, placing his wide brimmed hat back on his head. "No it is Buisness. Decide by midnight."
Charles Montgomery slammed his fist on the desk and snarled, "We can't meet these terms! The equity stake alone would—"
"We have to," Ethan hissed. "If we lose this contract, our stock crashes. The Whitmans will call off the wedding. And Jace—" His voice became a deadly whisper. "That bastard is probably laughing in some gutter right now."
Across town, Jace was laughing—in satisfaction of hearing the news knowing very well it will cause them panic. Reynolds handed him a glass of scotch. "They took the bait."
"Good…now we reel them in."
Ethan signed the papers with a sweaty hand with Finn Whitman's scowling face beside him.
Three hundred million upfront
Twenty percent equity stake
Finn Whitman's account as collateral.
"Pleasure doing Buisness," Mr Reynolds said smoothly.
As they left, Ethan exhaled. "At least it's done. It's signed."
Finn's phone buzzed. A news alert….
PARKINSON GROUP ACQUIRES FORTY NINE PERCENT OF MONTGOMERY MEDICAL.
Ethan's knees buckled as he asked breathlessly, "What…?"