Free Web NovelChapter 303: Chapter 303 Board of Sharks
Hudson’s POV
The boardroom hummed with tension, broken only by the quiet whisper of the air conditioning. Twelve pairs of calculating eyes tracked my every move from around the gleaming mahogany table.
I sat at the head position, my bandaged arm resting casually on the chair despite the persistent itch and throb beneath the sleeve.
One of the older pack members cleared his throat. He was technically a Laurent too, some distant relative whose exact connection few remembered. Second cousin once removed, perhaps. Nearing seventy with a heavy jaw and self-importance radiating from every pore.
"Hudson," he began with a deliberately paternal tone. "No one questions your abilities, but you’ve been through hell. Stranded on an island, injured, feverish. Surely you must admit you need rest. Stepping back temporarily would be wise. Let others carry the weight until you’re recovered." frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Several heads nodded.
Murmurs of agreement circled the table like sharks scenting blood.
They thought they were subtle, but I had seen the look in their eyes the moment I entered the room. They had scented blood.
Lycaon growled low in my mind. "They’re circling for the kill. Show them who’s Alpha."
I steepled my fingers, keeping my expression cold. "You believe Sabreridge pack needs different leadership?"
"Only temporarily," another chimed in, a distant uncle whose claim to our pack was as thin as his thinning hair. "Your health comes first. And with these rumors about a Titanova takeover, the market’s nervous. Someone with more... experience might reassure investors."
Experience. Their code for age. In their minds, my youth remained an affront, a constant reminder that my grandfather had chosen me over all of them.
I let them talk. I had no intention of stopping them. Their words revealed more than they realized.
Lea’s name surfaced repeatedly. They circled it like vultures, speculating whether she’d already made her move, wondering aloud how much their shares might fetch if rumors proved true.
I’d deliberately allowed those whispers to spread. Rumor was an efficient tool for exposing loyalties. It revealed allegiances faster than any audit.
Half the men around this table owed their positions to bloodlines, favors, or simple inertia. They’d been gifted titles by Edouard Laurent or by my father Reginald, who’d treated our pack’s businesses like a private estate to carve up among friends. They were the weak links I intended to expose.
"If Titanova is truly interested," someone ventured, "perhaps hearing them out would be prudent. A merger, a partnership—"
"Titanova does not dictate terms to Sabreridge," I said flatly.
My words dropped into silence like stones. For several heartbeats, no one dared to speak.
"Still," a cousin pressed, "Lea Lopez is formidable. You were partners once, weren’t you? The market knows this. Investors see sense in such an alignment."
I thought of Lea, of our confrontation on the cruise ship. I’d believed that would be our final meeting. I was wrong on multiple counts.
In some ways, we were alike. When we wanted something, we stopped at nothing to get it. Maybe we had been partners once, but now she was intent on recasting us as predator and prey.
She’d already leveraged Titanova’s connections to disrupt my supply chains, to lure away potential clients. Those were mere irritations, nothing more, the sort of problems that came with running an enterprise as vast as Laurent Global Holdings.
Now she’d gone for the jugular.
"What if she makes good on her threat if we don’t sell?" someone finally asked, voicing what they were all thinking.
The rumor had spread like wildfire. A sudden ordinance from City Hall, an emergency moratorium on all new land development and construction permits. If passed, LGH would be the prime target.
"Our projects would freeze overnight," another said anxiously.
"Future plans locked down. No chance to prepare, no way to challenge it before it passed," someone else added.
And they were right.
Unless Lea intervened.
It was no secret she had influence over the Deputy Commissioner of Urban Development, the only man with the power to push such an ordinance through. What leverage she held over him—money, blackmail, something darker—was still unclear. My people were working on it.
If the moratorium went through, it would be almost impossible to strike down in court. LGH would bleed millions lobbying against the law, all while operations ground to a halt.
Unless I gave Lea what she wanted.
I leaned back, revealing nothing. The ache in my hand pulsed steadily, but I welcomed it. The pain reminded me of the island, of Christina’s face in firelight, of how she’d trusted me with her life.
But not yet with her love.
That was my mistake. I’d pushed too hard, too fast. I had been the one to suggest the contract marriage, the one to buy her building, the one to manipulate her into living in my house. Always controlling, always strategizing.
But mates, unlike companies, didn’t bend to pressure. She had felt cornered, and when our real wedding loomed, she had fled.
So I had let her go. Not because I wanted the breakup, but because my mate needed space to decide for herself.
And I was confident. The bond between fated mates couldn’t be denied forever.
Christina might waver, but she would return.
The answer would be yes.
"If there’s nothing further," I said firmly, "this meeting is adjourned."
Chairs scraped reluctantly. The shareholders filed out, muttering quietly. None of them looked me in the eye.
The door clicked shut behind the last of them.
A knock followed almost immediately.
"Come in," I called. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
Dominic Everett, my Beta, slipped through the door. His dark suit immaculate as always. He leaned close, voice lowered. "She’s here."
I frowned. "Who?"
"Luna Christina. I mean, Miss Vance. She’s downstairs."
