The thing about chaos is that it doesn't just hurt your enemies.It blinds them.
The Cross family was scrambling. Valen Dynamics' stock had shed nearly fifteen percent in two weeks. The smear campaign against "Adrian Kane" had backfired, leaving me looking like a philanthropist instead of a predator. And now, one of their key suppliers had defected, breaking an unspoken rule in our industry — you don't poach from the Cross empire unless you're ready to be crushed.
Which meant they were about to be very busy trying to crush me.
And while they were busy, I'd take something else from them.
Lena leaned over my desk, scanning the chart the Black Ledger was projecting. "I know that company," she said. "Aurelius Freight. Small, old, boring. Why the hell do you care about them?"
"Because boring is safe," I said. "And safe gets overlooked."
Aurelius Freight wasn't flashy. They didn't make headlines, didn't chase innovation, didn't play the quarterly growth game. But they were woven into the Cross family's logistics network like veins through a body. They handled low-margin, high-volume freight for several subsidiaries, which meant two things:
First, they were essential but undervalued.Second, if they went down, it would quietly choke the Cross family's operations without anyone outside the industry noticing.
The Black Ledger's data models showed their share price had been stagnant for years. But in the last week, subtle fluctuations suggested liquidity stress. Nothing that would alarm the market — but enough to tell me they were feeling the ripple effects of Valen's instability.
They'd be cheaper to buy now than they'd ever be again.
Rule of opportunistic acquisition: you don't wait for the market to "officially" mark something as distressed. By then, it's already been picked over. You move when everyone else still thinks it's fine.
I called Clara. "I need you to run a story," I said.
"Let me guess — another halo piece?"
"Not this time. I want background coverage on Aurelius Freight. Industry history, local impact, interviews with their CEO about 'operational challenges in the current market.' Make it look like human interest, but lean on the challenges."
She paused. "You're softening them up for a bid."
"Clara," I said, "if you ever decide to leave journalism, you'd make an excellent mercenary."
The next step was quieter. I reached out to two shell companies I controlled through a maze of offshore entities. One would start quietly buying Aurelius shares on the open market — never more than a fraction of a percent at a time, spread across multiple brokers to avoid triggering reporting thresholds. The other would approach two minority shareholders privately, offering slightly above market value for their stakes.
Within five days, I held just under eight percent of Aurelius — not enough to raise alarms, but enough to make my next move credible.
Meanwhile, the Cross family was busy.
The Black Ledger tracked their activity: meetings with investment banks, a sudden increase in PR spending, and an aggressive push to reassure Valen's largest institutional investors. They were plugging holes in the dam and didn't notice the water rising elsewhere.
That was the beauty of multi-front warfare. The more fires you set, the harder it is for your opponent to see which one is burning closest to their house.
The real break came when Aurelius announced disappointing quarterly results — barely a three percent miss on revenue targets, but in a market already jittery from Valen's troubles, it was enough to shave nine percent off their share price in two days.
I moved fast.
Through my shell companies, I made a public offer to buy a controlling interest at a thirty percent premium over the current market price. Not so high that it looked desperate, not so low that they'd laugh me out of the room.
The offer hit the wires at 10:02 a.m. By 10:07, Aurelius' CEO, Martin Greaves, was on the phone.
"I have to admit," he said, his voice cautious, "this offer was… unexpected. Why us?"
"Because you're stable," I said, which was technically true. "Because you're undervalued. And because I think your growth potential has been overlooked by larger players in the sector."
"And you want to be the one to unlock it?"
"I want to help you do it," I said. "But let's be clear — I won't invest in a company I can't influence. I need a controlling stake."
Greaves hesitated. "I'd have to bring this to the board."
"Of course," I said. "But think about the timing. The market's getting nervous. An injection of capital and a strong partner could stabilize things before those nerves turn into sell orders."
It wasn't a threat. Not exactly. But Greaves understood. In a volatile market, the difference between a stable share price and a death spiral can be measured in days.
By the end of the week, we had a deal.
Officially, the controlling stake was acquired by "Northwind Holdings," a mid-size investment firm out of Singapore. Unofficially, Northwind was mine, buried under enough legal insulation to keep my fingerprints invisible.
To the public, Aurelius Freight had just found a lifeline. To the Cross family, nothing had changed. To me, I'd just taken control of one of their logistical arteries without firing a shot.
Lena walked into my office, holding the signed documents. "You realize they're going to notice eventually."
"Of course," I said. "But by then, it'll be too late to take it back without hurting themselves."
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You're playing a long game."
"The only game worth playing," I said.
That night, I reviewed the Black Ledger's latest projections. Controlling Aurelius would allow me to disrupt supply chains to Valen and at least two other Cross subsidiaries within sixty days — all without openly declaring war.
And when they did notice, their choice would be simple: either negotiate with me on my terms, or watch their own infrastructure grind to a halt.
The trap was set. And it was tightening.