STRIPPED WITHOUT A WHISPER OF WARNING

Adrian’s POV

“Eighty percent.”

The number echoed like a curse in the boardroom.

I stared down at the report as if the sheer force of my glare could change the numbers printed there in black ink. But no amount of fury could alter the fact: someone had swept the floor out from under us. Charlotte’s company, our company, had been stripped without a whisper of warning.

The room was filled with whispers, gasps, and panic as the board tried to process the news. But I wasn’t listening. I was watching Charlotte, who sat across the table like a marble statue, pale and unreadable.

The chairman cleared his throat awkwardly. “The shares were bought in blocks over the past two weeks through various shell companies. As of this morning, eighty percent ownership now belongs to a single anonymous investor.”

Anonymous.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

“Who authorized the sale?” I growled.

“Technically… they didn’t need to. The shares were public. It’s legal.”

Legal.

Right.

That didn’t make it any less of a declaration of war.

I stood up, my chair scraping violently against the polished floor. I didn’t wait for the meeting to end. I didn’t care about decorum anymore.

I had blood to trace.

Back in my office, I slammed the door shut and pulled out my phone.

“Jason,” I barked into the receiver the second he picked up, “I want you in my office in five.”

“Already outside,” he replied.

I yanked open the door, and there he stood, Jason Rowe, one of the best digital trackers money could buy. Young, arrogant, and desperate to prove himself. Just the kind of man who needed to deliver or suffer the consequences.

“Eighty percent,” I snapped, throwing the shareholder report on the table between us. “Gone. Bought through phantom companies, hidden accounts. I want to know who the hell did it.”

He sat down without waiting to be offered a seat and pulled out his laptop. “Send me all you’ve got: transaction IDs, company names, and account references. I’ll dig.”

“I don’t want you to dig,” I hissed. “I want you to burn through every firewall and find out who thinks they can play this game.”

Jason grinned like it was Christmas morning. “On it.”

I paced as he worked, my thoughts spiraling. It couldn’t have been a random investor. This was deliberate. Coordinated. Precise. Someone knew exactly how to move without drawing attention until the deed was done.

Only a handful of people had that level of sophistication.

And fewer had the nerve to come after me.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty.

Jason swore under his breath, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“What?” I asked.

“Whoever this is… they’re good. Layers on layers. Each transaction is scrubbed. Proxy servers bouncing through countries with no extradition. Dummy accounts made six months ago, just sitting there like landmines waiting to be triggered.”

“So, you’re telling me you can’t find them?”

He hesitated. “I’m telling you I need more time.”

Wrong answer.

I pulled the gun from my desk drawer and pointed it at his hand.

His eyes widened. “Whoa whoa! Adrian, what the hell—”

I didn’t wait.

The shot rang through the office like a thunderclap. Blood spattered the screen. Jason screamed and clutched his hand, falling back in the chair.

“Get the f*ck out of my office,” I said, voice calm, composed. “And don’t come back until you have a name.”

He stumbled out, cradling his hand and shouting obscenities.

I didn’t care.

I sat back in the chair, heart pounding, jaw tight. My empire was being ripped out from under me, and someone out there was enjoying the show.

Not for long.

I returned home to silence.

The kind of silence that screamed louder than any fight ever could.

Charlotte was already in the living room, glass of wine in hand, legs tucked under her like a queen in exile. She didn’t look at me when I entered. I just sipped and stared at the wall like I didn’t exist.

I dropped my keys on the counter and loosened my tie.

“How long are you going to keep punishing me?” I asked, my voice low.

Still, she said nothing.

“You think I did this to us?” I continued. “That I let someone waltz in and steal our company?”

She gave a humorless laugh and finally turned to me. “No. I think you were so obsessed with power that you forgot how many enemies we made. You created this mess, you cheating bastard.”

“I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“No, you never do,” she said sharply. “You want obedience, not opinions.”

I took a step toward her. “This isn’t about us. Not now. Someone just gutted our company. You should be just as furious as I am, Charlotte.”

“I am furious,” she hissed. “But unlike you, I don’t shoot people to make myself feel better.”

I stared at her.

“Jason’s hand,” she added, coolly. “News travels fast. Especially when there’s blood.”

“He failed.”

“He’s not a soldier. He’s a hacker.”

“Then he shouldn’t have acted like he could win a war. I gave him a simple task.”

We stared at each other for a moment. The air between us was thick with everything we hadn’t said in weeks—anger, disappointment, and grief for something that used to be powerful and invincible.

Finally, she looked away.

“I need a shower,” she muttered, rising from the couch.

“Do you even care anymore?” I asked before I could stop myself. “About the company. About us.”

She paused at the doorway, her back to me.

“I care,” she said softly. “I just don’t know if you do.”

Then she disappeared upstairs.

And I was alone again.

The call came just past midnight.

My phone buzzed against the table as I poured my second glass of bourbon. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. There was nothing left to lose.

“Adrian Steele,” I said into the phone.

A male voice responded. Calm. Crisp. Almost amused.

“I have an idea on how to win back the shares.”