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Chapter Sixty-Two: The War Room

Author: Sharon Rae
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-26 22:13:54

Day One

The Van Alston conference room had been transformed into something that looked like a cross between a military command center and a serial killer's obsession wall.

I stood in the center of it all, surrounded by chaos that somehow made perfect sense to me. Financial charts covered every inch of the mahogany-paneled walls. Red string connected photographs, newspaper clippings, and acquisition timelines like a spider web of corporate destruction. Three whiteboards displayed profit margins, stock prices, and employee numbers in different colored markers that corresponded to my growing understanding of Marcus Blackstone's preferred hunting methods.

"This is either brilliant or completely insane," Jules said from the doorway, balancing a tower of coffee cups and takeout containers. "I'm not sure which."

"Both," I replied without looking away from the timeline I was constructing. "The best plans usually are."

It was six in the morning, and I'd been here since four. Sleep felt like a luxury I couldn't afford when fifty thousand jobs hung in the balance. The security team had given up trying to convince me to go home around midnight, settling instead for posting guards outside the conference room and making sure I had a steady supply of caffeine.

"What exactly am I looking at?" Dominic's voice came from behind me, warm and amused despite the early hour.

I turned to find him standing in the doorway, taking in the controlled chaos I'd created. He was perfectly dressed as always, but there was something softer about him in the morning light—his hair slightly mussed, his tie not quite perfectly straight, like he'd rushed here to check on me.

"Marcus Blackstone's psychological profile," I said, gesturing to the wall of photographs and documents. "Twenty years of hostile takeovers, and I think I've found his pattern."

Dominic moved closer, his eyes scanning the web of connections I'd spent hours mapping. "Tell me."

"He doesn't just target financially vulnerable companies," I said, pulling down a photograph of Blackstone from five years ago—distinguished silver hair, cold blue eyes, and a smile that looked carved from marble. "He targets emotionally vulnerable ones."

I pointed to a cluster of red pins on a map of North America. "Morrison Tech in Seattle—targeted right after the founder's son died in a car accident. Hartwell Industries in Detroit—taken over three months after the CEO's messy divorce became tabloid fodder. Pacific Manufacturing in Los Angeles—acquired when the founding family was split by a bitter inheritance dispute."

Jules whistled low. "He's a vulture."

"Worse than a vulture," I said. "Vultures wait for things to die naturally. Blackstone creates the emotional trauma first, then swoops in to feed on the corpse."

Dominic was studying the timeline with the intensity of a chess master analyzing his opponent's strategy. "How does he create the trauma?"

"Corporate espionage, manufactured scandals, strategic leaks to business media." I pulled out a thick folder of newspaper clippings. "Look at this—every company he's targeted in the past five years had negative press coverage in the six months before his takeover bid. Stories about executive misconduct, environmental violations, financial irregularities."

"Stories that were later proven false or exaggerated," Dominic observed, scanning the headlines.

"But the damage was already done. Stock prices fell, employee morale plummeted, board members started panicking." I traced a finger along the acquisition timeline. "By the time he made his formal offer, these companies were so desperate for stability that his terms looked like salvation instead of surrender."

The door opened, and a steady stream of people began filing in—analysts, researchers, and investigators that Dominic had somehow assembled in the few hours since I'd started this project. They moved with the quiet efficiency of professionals who understood that discretion was as valuable as information.

"Mrs. Blackwood," a woman with sharp features and sharper eyes approached me. "I'm Sarah Chen, financial intelligence specialist. Mr. Blackwood asked me to compile everything we could find on Blackstone International's acquisition methods."

She handed me a tablet loaded with spreadsheets, financial records, and what looked like surveillance photographs. "This is everything our team could gather on short notice, but I should warn you—Blackstone's operation is sophisticated. They use multiple shell companies, offshore accounts, and legal structures designed to hide their tracks."

"Show me," I said, clearing space on the conference table.

For the next four hours, I disappeared into a world of numbers, patterns, and psychological warfare disguised as business strategy. Sarah's team had uncovered a network of corporate sabotage that was breathtaking in its scope and terrifying in its effectiveness.

Blackstone didn't just buy companies—he dismantled the human connections that made them strong. He identified key relationships, family bonds, personal vulnerabilities, and then systematically destroyed them until the target company was nothing more than assets waiting to be stripped.

"He's not a businessman," I said around noon, staring at a photograph of Marcus Blackstone shaking hands with a defeated CEO whose company had just been absorbed into the Blackstone empire. "He's a predator who hunts families."

Dominic looked up from his own pile of research. "And now he's hunting yours."

The words sent a chill down my spine because they were absolutely true. Victoria lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Maeve openly questioning my competence. The board divided between skepticism and grudging acceptance. Blackstone had found exactly the kind of emotional vulnerability he needed to tear Van Alston Industries apart.

"We need more intelligence," I said, turning to Sarah. "I want to know everything about his current operation. Who's he paying, what pressure points he's targeting, which board members he might be trying to influence."

"That's going to take time," she said. "And resources."

"Money's not an issue," Dominic said without looking up from his tablet. "Time is."

By sunset, the war room looked like the headquarters of a revolution. More walls had been covered with financial projections, competitive analyses, and psychological profiles. A dozen laptops hummed with data mining operations. Phones rang constantly as Dominic's network of contacts provided intelligence from across the corporate landscape.

I was hunched over a stack of acquisition reports when I felt hands settle on my shoulders, warm and steady and absolutely familiar.

"When's the last time you ate something?" Dominic asked, his thumbs working at the knots of tension in my neck.

"I had coffee," I said, not looking away from the document I was reading.

"Coffee isn't food."

"It is if you add enough sugar."

His laugh was soft and fond. "Come on. Sarah and her team can hold down the fort while we grab dinner."

"I can't stop now," I said, even as his touch was making it impossible to concentrate. "I'm close to something. I can feel it."

"Feel what?"

"His weakness." I turned in my chair to face him, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "Every predator has one. A blind spot. Something that makes them vulnerable. I just have to find it."

He studied my face in the dim lighting, and I saw something shift in his expression. Pride, maybe. Or recognition.

"You're magnificent," he said quietly. "Watching you work, seeing your mind tear apart problems that would intimidate seasoned executives—it's incredible."

Heat pooled in my belly at the admiration in his voice. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

"No," he said, his hands cupping my face with devastating gentleness. "You're doing what no one else could do. You're thinking three moves ahead of someone who's been playing this game longer than you've been alive."

Before I could respond, he was kissing me. Soft and sweet and full of something that felt like worship. When we broke apart, I was breathless and dizzy and completely unable to remember what I'd been working on.

"Dinner," he said firmly. "Then you can get back to conquering the corporate world."

But I didn't make it to dinner.

Somewhere around ten o'clock, while poring over Blackstone's personnel files, exhaustion finally caught up with me. The numbers started blurring together, the timelines stopped making sense, and I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over without comprehending a word.

I meant to just rest my eyes for a minute.

I woke up being lifted in strong arms, my face pressed against the familiar warmth of Dominic's chest. The war room was dark except for the glow of laptop screens and the city lights streaming through the windows.

"Sorry," I mumbled against his shirt. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Don't apologize," he said, carrying me toward the elevator. "You've been working for eighteen hours straight."

"But the research—"

"Will be here tomorrow. Sarah's team is running overnight analysis. Everything will be ready when you wake up."

The elevator ride to the executive floor was quiet, just the two of us and the gentle hum of machinery. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, could smell that intoxicating blend of cedar and danger that made me feel safer than I had any right to feel.

"Dominic?" I said as he carried me into what I now realized was a private apartment connected to the executive offices.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For all of this. The team, the resources, the support." I looked up at him, trying to find words for the gratitude that was bigger than language. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Yes, you could," he said, setting me down gently beside a bed that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel. "But you don't have to."

He helped me out of my shoes and blazer with movements that were careful and respectful, then pulled back the covers like I was something precious that needed protecting.

"Sleep," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Tomorrow we figure out how to destroy Marcus Blackstone."

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