NOVPUBThe doors parted with a low hiss as Gillian Henderson — in a brown suit with his long hair tied to a bun — stepped into the high-ceilinged chamber. Everything in the room gleamed — polished mahogany floors, deep velvet curtains, and an overhead chandelier dripping with crystal.
The walls were lined with silent, golden-framed portraits of men who had long ruled from behind curtains.
The Hendersons.
They were from old money. The oldest of it, changing their family name with the flow of time. And now, in the modern world, they had a more quiet wealth — the kind that never needed to announce itself.
In the center of this room sat Donald Henderson, reclined in a leather armchair near a tall oxygen stand.
A silk blanket draped over his legs, though his frame still looked sharply cut in his tailored suit. His skin was pale beneath the amber lighting, but his eyes were anything but weak.
He looked up as his son approached, a tired smile ghosting his lips.
"You're late."
"I came as soon as the meeting ended," Gillian replied, moving smoothly toward him. "The restructuring motion passed. You'll have full voting control in seventy-two hours."
Donald gave a nod, slow but satisfied. "Good. But we're not here to pat backs."
He leaned forward slightly. "Do you remember what I told you when we first discussed Golden Hay's casino arm?"
"That there's more beneath them than marble and dice," he answered. "You said it wasn't about gaming revenue."
"It never was," Donald murmured. He gestured toward the small monitor beside him. A touch of the keyboard brought up a digital map on the monitor.
Gillian narrowed his eyes, staring at the image on the screen: they were blueprints of old properties under Golden Hay's name.
"Those casinos were grandfathered into zones with old state exemptions. Land rights, federal spillover clauses... even insurance guarantees no one's bothered to audit in years."
His voice hardened. "Albert Hayes buried them in that company like a snake hiding eggs. But I've tracked every one of them. I'll bleed the value out of those properties before I die."
Gillian remained quiet. His father rarely mentioned his illness, so this meant this was very serious.
Donald looked at him again. "When I go, they'll assume I made all this effort for ego. That I wanted to go out with a crown on my head. But they'll be wrong. I did it... for you."
Gillian's throat tightened.
"I'm not trying to own Golden Hay," he said. "I'm trying to absorb what matters. Strip out the gold veins and melt them into our foundation. Franchise and Golden — joined under you."
He motioned for his son to sit. Gillian did, folding his legs with quiet grace.
"They will come for you, Gillian," he said. "Grant, the Mooneys, even that boy Darren if he figures it out. But I've spent decades playing long games. I laid every stone."
Gillian met his gaze without flinching. "Then I'll walk the path you built. I won't fail you."
Donald smiled — a real one this time, fragile and flickering.
"Good," he said. "Because this empire isn't being passed down, my son. It's being forged into your hands. Our family has lived longer than any left in this wretched city. They might have forgotten about us, but now it's left to you to claim it all. And claim it all... with force."
----------
Far away from there, inside the corporate areas of Los Alverez, Golden Hay HQ rose high to the sky, one of the biggest skyscrapers in the entire city.
Inside, the boardroom pulsed with quiet arrogance.
Polished glass walls overlooked the city skyline, and a long obsidian table stretched across the room like the spine of a beast.
Around it sat six sharply dressed men and women — lawyers, advisors, executors — with fancy briefcases open and documents mid-review.
At the head of the table sat Vector Callahan, his silver hair slicked back, a pristine pocket square folded with mathematical precision. He tapped his pen once against the folder labeled "Asset Redistribution Proposal."
"So," he said calmly, "with Grant out, Donald takes the casinos. Gentry gets the coastal resorts. Lang takes the parks and entertainment branches. Everything falls into place by Q3. We begin allocating others who would work under them as advisors, shares owned will increase. Grant will be entirely out of the picture since that's what he wants."
Murmurs of agreement followed.
"It's a clean sweep," said one of the women. "And with our contracts locked, no outsider can interfere."
Vector smiled thinly. "Let's keep it that way."
Just then—
SLAM.
The door burst open.
All heads turned sharply as a young, stunning man, furious and cold, stormed into the room.
It was Darren Steele, flanked by the daughter of Kaito Sagomoto, Daisy Chen, and Gareth Smithers's former assistant, Rachel Teschmacher!
Behind them was a silent, stone-faced security guard in a fitted black suit.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then, one of the lawyers, Andrew James, half-rose from his chair. "What the— how did you get in here?" he hissed.
Vector's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Steele. You dare come here! This is our boardroom! A private session. You have no—"
"I have no tolerance," Darren cut in, voice smooth and cold as granite. He walked forward slowly, every step echoing like a countdown. "Especially for snakes that deliver cowardly threats behind sealed envelopes."
"Threats?" Vector pretended not to know what Darren was saying. "We did no such thing."
Darren stopped just before the head of the table and placed a folded paper down with quiet finality — the very letter Vector had sent him.
"You should have burned this," Darren said, voice threatening. "Because now I'm not just watching… I'm responding."
The room tensed.
"Hahaha! You foolish boy! You don't know who you're dealing with," Vector snapped, trying to keep composure. "This is a lawful internal matter—"
"You tried to intimidate me, you silver-haired bastard," Darren interrupted, calm and unblinking. "And you are targeting one of my allies. Let me make this very clear — when you move against Grant Hayes, you move against me."
The woman, Tiana Dunham, leaned forward and asked; "And who the hell are you?"
Darren turned to her, eyes cold. "If you had any sense you would have cut your tongue rather than to dare speak to me."
Her blood ran cold.
"I will show who I am, I have no problem doing it. Just pull my strings. Do it one more time, because I know every legal and corporal trouble each and everyone of you have."
Their eyes began to flicker.
"As long as it's digitized, I will find out," Darren chuckled devilishly. "So make sure you clean before you dare come after me or my allies."
He leaned slightly forward, hands resting casually on the table, yet the pressure of his words crushed the room.
"If I see another threat... another document... another shadow pass over someone I protect— I'll file injunctions, class actions, corporate freezes, and ownership challenges so fast you'll need AI just to keep up. Every company tied to you will be audited. Every shell asset exposed. And every last one of you..." His gaze swept the room. "...will drown under court filings and capital hemorrhages."
Vector looked rattled, mouth twitching.
"And if that doesn't work," Darren said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a quiet razor's edge, "I'll do what you tried to do to me. I'll get those secrets I promised. I'll make you bleed from the inside — reputations ruined, partnerships dissolved, licenses revoked. You'll be cut off before the ink on your next meeting dries."
Silence.
Then Daisy Chen stepped forward, calm and ruthless.
"For the record," she said crisply, "the unauthorized threat to Mr. Steele, if exposed to court scrutiny, constitutes coercion, especially given your positions on Golden Hay's restructuring board. That letter alone can trigger an SEC investigation into improper asset manipulation and suppression of competitive bidders."
She looked at each of them, then directly at Vector.
"And believe me, I've already drafted the subpoenas."
Rachel handed Daisy a sleek black folder, which she dropped onto the table beside the letter. "Names. Numbers. Timelines. Go ahead, test us."
The room sat frozen. Several board members looked pale, one visibly swallowing hard.
Vector clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
Darren gave one final look around. "This was your warning. Don't touch what's mine again."
Then he turned.
With a flick of his coat, he strode out of the room, flanked by Daisy, Rachel, and his silent guard.
Rachel, unable to help herself, turned around to the lawyers with a cold look on her face. Then she mouthed the words, "Last chance," before disappearing alongside the rest through the door.
The room remained silent, the weight of his words hanging like smoke. 𝖓𝔬𝔳𝖕𝖚𝖇.𝖈𝔬𝔪
And for the first time since the plan began, they were afraid.
