John Powers had not slept for three nights.
His eyes were bloodshot, jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched beneath his skin. Rage simmered beneath every breath. An unknown company—some faceless entity calling itself Raven Corporation—had swept in like a silent storm and ripped his life's work out of his hands.
Reindeer Logistics wasn't just a company to John. It was legacy. Identity. The empire he had poured thirty years of sweat, sacrifice, and stubborn determination into. He had built it from a dusty warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago, with nothing but a loan he couldn't afford and a crew of eight underpaid employees.
And now? A single email—cold, clinical, emotionless—had informed him he was no longer CEO. Just like that. With no warning.
He had read the message three times, hoping he had misunderstood it. He hadn't.
The humiliation stung deeper than the loss.
At the same time, he had spent every last favor, every call, every scrap of influence he had left trying to keep Chad out of jail. Judges he had helped appoint, politicians who owed him money, lawyers who charged more per hour than most people earned in a month—he had called them all.
And still, Chad was out on bail, not free. There would be hearings. Tests. Investigations. And now there was a civil lawsuit too.
John's world was collapsing from every direction.
He sat in his office now, surrounded by his legal team. Papers littered the table. Financial statements. SEC filings. Audit requests. All of it felt like a storm closing in.
"We need to challenge the takeover," John insisted, pacing across the room. "This Raven corporation—whoever they are—you can't let them force me out. This is my company."
His head lawyer, a graying man named Donald Pierce, adjusted his glasses and shook his head slowly.
"John… we've reviewed the numbers. They legally own eighty-nine percent of Reindeer Logistics. You're outvoted. Outmaneuvered. If you attempt to block the sale or challenge the tender, you'll be crushed in court."
"So what?" John snapped. "We fight anyway."
Two other lawyers exchanged uneasy looks before Pierce continued.
"Sir, with the private audit they initiated, we strongly advise against any legal battle. If they uncover misreported earnings, contract inflation, or any signs of mismanagement—intentional or not—the Raven corporation could file criminal charges."
"Embezzlement," one lawyer added quietly.
"Breach of fiduciary duty," another murmured.
"And jail time," Pierce finished. "For you."
John froze.
He stared at them as if they had betrayed him.
"So your brilliant legal advice is—what? To lie down and let them take everything?"
Pierce took a breath, steadying himself.
"Our advice is to sell. Accept a negotiated payout and walk away clean. If Raven wants the company, let them have it before they tear it apart and drag you down with it."
John slammed his fist into the table, sending pens scattering.
"This is bullshit."
But deep in his heart, he already knew they were right.
His anger wasn't enough to fix this.
His power wasn't enough to stop it.
The storm was too big.
---
John called a meeting immediately—disregarding the scheduled Friday conference. If this Raven corporation wanted a fight, he wasn't giving them time to prepare one. They would settle this today.
At 12:15 PM, Derek arrived at Reindeer Logistics headquarters with Alan Payne at his side. The two walked calmly through the marble lobby, attracting curious glances. Derek looked almost out of place—a young face in a suit far too expensive for his apparent age. But there was a stillness about him. A precision. A calculation in his eyes that made the security guards straighten unconsciously.
The receptionist escorted them to the main conference room on the top floor. Derek took a seat at the polished oak table, hands folded in front of him. Alan placed a stack of organized files on the table, checking them with practiced efficiency.
Five minutes later, the door burst open.
John Powers entered with his entire legal army behind him.
The tension in the room thickened instantly.
John didn't sit at first; he stood at the head of the table, looming like a man ready for war.
"Before we begin," he growled, "I want to make one thing very clear. I built this company. I bled for it. And I'm not handing it off to some shadow corporation without a fight."
Derek didn't flinch.
Alan didn't even blink.
The lawyers took their seats, and the negotiation began.
John's team started with demands so outrageous even his lawyers seemed embarrassed: a permanent seat on the board, a managerial position, veto power on major decisions, and involvement in shaping company direction.
Derek let them finish, then leaned back slightly.
"No," he said simply.
John's face reddened.
Derek continued, his voice calm, almost polite.
"You have two choices. Option one…" He paused, tapping a finger lightly on the table. "You keep your remaining ten percent shares. And once the audit is complete, every discrepancy, every false invoice, every questionable expense will be grounds for criminal charges. Breach of fiduciary duty. Fraud. Mismanagement."
John stiffened.
Derek's eyes sharpened, like a blade pressed against a throat.
"And when the courts are done with you, I'll acquire the remaining shares for free. As damages."
Silence swallowed the room.
A few lawyers looked down at their papers, as if suddenly fascinated by the ink.
"Option two," Derek said, lifting two fingers. "You walk away now. Ten percent above the tender offer. Clean. No charges. No audit consequences. You retire with your money and your freedom."
John's breath hitched.
"That's extortion."
"No," Derek replied softly. "That's leverage."
Hours passed. Voices rose. Lawyers argued. Papers were passed across the table and pushed back again.
But Derek never raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
Because everything was already decided.
By 4:52 PM, John Powers signed.
His hands trembled as he wrote his name on the final page. His life's work—gone in a handful of strokes.
Every memo, financial statement, and classified document was handed over to Derek's legal team. They boxed everything with clinical efficiency.
John stood, not looking at anyone.
Before he reached the door, he turned back to Derek.
"How?" he demanded. "How does a kid—someone half my son's age—pull off a buyout like this? Who the hell are you?"
Derek didn't answer.
He gathered his papers, stood, and walked past John as if he were already a memory.
But halfway to the door, Derek paused.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and John?" he said lightly. "I'll see you in court."
John spun around, panicking.
"What? Why? We had a deal! You said—"
Derek offered a soft, cold smile.
"I wasn't talking about you."
John blinked, confused.
"I was referring," Derek continued, "to Chad."
The room went dead silent.
Derek straightened his cuffs.
"I'm the one suing him for assault and defamation."
John's mouth fell open. His lawyers froze. Alan Payne almost smirked.
Derek walked out without another word.
Behind him, John Powers felt the final blow land—a blow he never saw coming.