Chapter Sixty: The Gauntlet

The documents spread across the marble table like evidence at a trial.

DNA results showing 99.7% genetic match to Victoria Van Alston. Birth certificates with dates and signatures that couldn't be faked. Hospital records from the day I was born, complete with tiny footprints and a photo that showed the same eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.

Richard picked up the DNA analysis with hands that shook slightly. "This is... comprehensive."

"Very thorough," agreed another board member, a woman with silver hair who'd introduced herself as Catherine Mills. "The chain of custody is impeccable."

Around the table, eleven other faces showed varying degrees of acceptance and resignation. The evidence was undeniable. The proof was overwhelming. I was Victoria Van Alston's granddaughter, and there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it.

Except Maeve.

"Fine," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut diamond. "The documents are legitimate. You're Victoria's granddaughter. Congratulations."

Her tone suggested I'd just won a participation trophy at a children's soccer game.

"But," she continued, standing and smoothing down her black suit, "bloodline doesn't automatically mean competence."

Several board members nodded. I felt my stomach tighten.

"The Van Alston empire isn't a trust fund for spoiled children," Maeve said, warming to her theme. "It's a multinational corporation with over fifty thousand employees and revenue streams in thirty-seven countries. We don't hand over control to someone just because they share DNA with the founder."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Dominic asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"A test," Richard said, leaning forward. "It's not unprecedented. Many family businesses require heirs to prove their capabilities before assuming full control."

Catherine Mills pulled out a tablet and began swiping through screens. "There are established protocols for this kind of transition. Competency evaluations, crisis management scenarios, leadership assessments."

"How long?" I asked.

"Typically, six months to a year," Richard replied.

"We don't have a year," Maeve said. "The company is facing immediate threats that require decisive action."

She gestured to Margaret Williams, who wheeled in another monitor. This one showed financial charts, stock prices, and what looked like acquisition documents.

"Blackstone International," Maeve said as the screen filled with corporate logos and profit projections. "They've been circling us like vultures for three years, ever since Victoria's health started declining."

The name sent a chill down my spine. I'd heard of Blackstone—everyone in business had. They were the corporate equivalent of locusts, buying up struggling companies and stripping them for parts.

"They're offering 40% above market value for a controlling stake," Catherine said, reading from her tablet. "The bid expires in seven days."

"Seven days?" I looked around the table. "That's impossible."

"It's designed to be impossible," Maeve said with satisfaction. "Marcus Blackstone doesn't believe in fair fights. He uses pressure tactics, leveraged buyouts, and hostile takeovers to get what he wants."

"And he wants us," Richard added grimly. "Has wanted us for years. Victoria has been fighting him off, but..."

"But Victoria is in a hospital bed," Maeve finished. "And we need someone who can make decisions. Real decisions. Not a frightened girl who's never run so much as a lemonade stand."

The insult hit home, but I kept my face neutral. "What kind of decisions?"

"The kind that could save or destroy fifty thousand jobs," Catherine said. "Blackstone's offer looks generous on paper, but their business model involves massive layoffs and asset liquidation. They'd gut our manufacturing division, outsource our technology development, and eliminate our charitable foundation."

"Basically, they'd destroy everything Victoria spent her life building," Richard said.

"So we refuse the offer," I said.

Maeve laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think we haven't tried that? Blackstone doesn't take no for an answer. When companies refuse their initial offers, they get creative."

The screen changed to show newspaper clippings and financial reports. Headlines screamed about corporate scandals, environmental violations, and executive misconduct.

"They manufacture crises," Maeve continued. "Suddenly, your best clients start canceling contracts. Your biggest suppliers develop mysterious quality control issues. Regulatory agencies discover violations that somehow escaped notice for decades."

"They're doing this to us now," Catherine said quietly. "Three major clients have terminated their contracts in the past month. Our European division is facing a surprise audit from customs officials. And somehow, our private financial records ended up leaked to business journalists."

The scope of it was staggering. "How is that legal?"

"It's not," Dominic said. "But proving it in court takes years, and by then, the company is usually bankrupt."

"So what's the solution?" I asked.

"That," Maeve said with a smile that promised nothing good, "is what we want you to figure out."

The room went silent except for the hum of air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic sixty floors below.

"This is your test," Richard said. "Marcus Blackstone has been outmaneuvering some of the smartest business minds in the world for twenty years. He's never lost a hostile takeover battle. Never."

"Victoria herself has been fighting him for three years," Catherine added. "And she's been losing ground every month."

"If you can find a way to defeat Blackstone International," Maeve said, "then maybe you're worthy of inheriting the Van Alston empire. If not..."

She shrugged, as if the destruction of everything Victoria had built was just an unfortunate side effect of natural selection.

"How long do I have?" I asked.

"Seven days," Richard said. "That's when their offer expires and they move to more... aggressive tactics."

"What resources do I have access to?"

"Everything," Catherine said. "Full financial records, legal team, strategic planning department. Whatever you need."

"Except time," Maeve added helpfully. "Time you don't have."

I looked around the table at twelve faces that showed varying degrees of skepticism, concern, and in Maeve's case, barely concealed hope that I would fail spectacularly.

"And if I can't solve this?"

"Then the board votes on whether to accept Blackstone's offer," Richard said. "To save what we can before they destroy everything."

"Which is exactly what Marcus Blackstone is counting on," Dominic said quietly.

I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of fifty thousand jobs, billions of dollars, and Victoria's life work settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

"Fine," I said. "I'll need an office, access to all financial records from the past five years, and a direct line to every department head."

"Done," Catherine said.

"I'll also need transcripts of every communication with Blackstone International, plus any intelligence we have on their previous acquisitions."

"Anything else?" Maeve asked with false sweetness.

I looked directly at her, letting her see the steel that had kept me alive through poison attempts and assassination plots and family betrayals.

"Yes," I said. "I'll need you to stay out of my way."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Then Richard laughed—actually laughed. "Well," he said, "this should be interesting."

As the board members filed out, Dominic caught my hand. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "We could walk away. Build something new."

"No," I said, watching through the windows as Manhattan sprawled beneath us like a kingdom waiting to be claimed or conquered. "Victoria didn't build this empire so it could be torn apart by vultures. She built it for family."

"And what if you can't solve it? What if Blackstone really is unbeatable?"

I turned to face him, feeling something fierce and determined rising in my chest.

"Then I guess we're about to find out what a Van Alston woman is really capable of when someone threatens her family."

Outside, the city hummed with the energy of eight million people living their lives, working their jobs, building their dreams.

In seven days, I would either save all of that or watch it burn.

No pressure at all.