Chapter 1149

"Enough! Not another word!" he barked at his eldest son before turning back to the table.

"Since the Chairman has returned, let's hear what he has to say. I'm sure he can provide us with some much-needed clarity regarding the recent turbulence we've faced."

Peak's face remained thunderous, desperate to keep fighting.

He firmly believed they had come too far to retreat. If they didn't push forward now, the Maddens would inevitably crush them later.

The shareholders who had supported them mere minutes ago still held enough collective shares to rival the Madden family's stake.

If they just stood their ground and forced a showdown, they might still stand a chance.

He took a step forward, but Eartha grabbed his arm, shaking her head subtly.

Eartha was practically suffocating on her own resentment. Her kidneys were failing, and she desperately needed a transplant.

Now that they had declared outright war on the Maddens—and brought down the wrath of Remington Dashiell—she was consumed by terror.

But she wasn't a fool. She knew they had walked straight into a trap.

This was not the time for a suicide charge. They had to fall back and wait for another opening.

The war wasn't over. She had survived through sheer endurance for years; she could wait for another opportunity.

As she rationalized her retreat, her perfectly manicured nails dug so hard into her palms they drew blood, her chest tightening with anxiety.

Nelson's sharp gaze swept over the Porter family, finally settling on Eartha's face. His stare grew heavy and cold, pressing down on her like a physical weight.

The sting in her palms sharpened, providing just enough grounding to keep her from flinching away from his oppressive stare.

A cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Just as she braced herself for whatever devastating thing he was about to say, Nelson simply looked away.

But the dismissal offered no comfort.

The utter blankness in his eyes-devoid of disappointment, sadness, or even hatred -made it violently clear that to him, she was already dead.

The realization slammed into her chest, giving way to a much deeper, more primal terror.

"Porter, are you genuinely pleased to see me standing here?"

Nelson's attention snapped back to Chairman Porter, his tone razor-sharp.

Caught off guard by the blunt hostility, Chairman Porter stiffened before forcing a strained smile.

"Brother, what kind of question is that? Of course I am. Setting aside our decades of brotherhood, this

company simply cannot survive net

without you. When you fell ill, we were all out of our minds with worry. The stock was plunging by the day; and the staff were in a panic. If it weren't for that, we never would have called this emergency meeting. They only pushed me to step in to protect the company's interests. Please, don't misunderstand my intentions."

Nelson let out a cold scoff, genuinely astounded by the man's ability to lie straight to his face.

Lizetta offered a frosty smile. "What

exactly is my grandfather

misunderstanding? Is he

misunderstanding that you intentionally capitalized on his illness to spread fake news about his death, all to stage a corporate coup?"

Everyone in the room knew exactly what had happened.

But saying it out loud meant crossing a line from which there was no return.

The Porters still held a massive

chunk of shares, and they would all have to share the same boardroom tomorrow. For the sake of corporate stability, the unspoken rufe wa play nice.

But Lizetta's brutal honesty ripped the mask right off Chairman Porter's face.

The temperature in the room plummeted once again. No one dared to breathe.