Chapter 14: Acquisition

CASSIAN

The conference room reeked of old money and older grudges.

I sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled, watching the man across from me drone on about “legacy” and “family heritage” like those words meant something to me.

Gerald Cho. Mid-sixties. Owned a prime piece of waterfront property in the city’s financial district that XUM had been trying to acquire for the better part of two years. My father had tried the diplomatic approach… generous offers, compromises, appeals to reason. My brother Preston had tried charm and negotiation.

Both had failed.

So naturally, they’d sent me.

“You have to understand, Mr. Wolfe,” Gerald was saying, gesturing expansively with his hands, “this land has been in my family for three generations. My grandfather built his first business there. My father expanded it. I grew up playing in those streets. You can’t put a price on history.”

I said nothing.

Just watched him.

He shifted slightly under my gaze, but pressed on. “XUM Properties is a fine company, of course. Your father is a reasonable man. But I’m afraid no amount of money will convince me to—”

“Eighty million over market value,” I interrupted, voice flat.

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s what we’re offering. Eighty million over market value. Plus relocation assistance for any remaining tenants, a commemorative plaque honoring your family’s legacy, and a dedicated wing in the new development named after your grandfather.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“And you’re still saying no.”

Gerald’s jaw tightened. “As I said, Mr. Wolfe, some things are more valuable than money.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.” He straightened in his chair, puffing up with false confidence. “They are. And I don’t appreciate being strongarmed by—”

My phone buzzed on the table.

I glanced down.

Incoming call: HR

My lips twitched.

I held up a finger. “Excuse me.”

Gerald’s expression flickered with irritation, but I didn’t care.

I picked up the phone and answered. “Yes?”

“Mr. Wolfe.” The voice was crisp and efficient. “The transfer has been completed. Bennett has been reassigned to executive liaison assistant, effective immediately. He’ll report to the executive floor within the hour.”

Something warm and satisfied curled in my chest.

“Good,” I said simply. “Make sure he’s briefed on the new protocols. I want him ready by this afternoon.”

“Understood, sir.”

I ended the call and set the phone back down on the table, letting the silence stretch.

Gerald was watching me, a faint smugness creeping into his expression. Like he thought the interruption meant I was losing focus. Like he thought he had the upper hand.

Adorable.

I leaned back in my chair, adjusting my cuffs with deliberate slowness.

“Where were we?” I asked mildly. “Ah, yes. You were explaining how your family’s legacy is more important than eighty million dollars.”

“That’s correct,” Gerald said, emboldened now. “I really don’t think you understand the value of—”

“No.”

He stopped mid-sentence.

“I don’t think you understand your position,” I continued, voice dropping into something colder. Sharper.

I reached for the manila folder sitting on the table in front of me and slid it across to him.

He stared at it like it might bite him.

“What is this?” he asked warily.

“Open it.”

He hesitated, then slowly pulled the folder toward him and flipped it open.

I watched his face closely.

The exact moment the color drained from it.

His eyes widened. His hands trembled slightly as he turned the first page. Then the second. Then the third.

“This is…” His voice came out hoarse. “This is sealed. These records were sealed.”

“Were they?” I asked, tilting my head. “Funny how things have a way of resurfacing when you know where to look.”

He looked up at me, panic flickering behind his eyes. “You can’t—this was handled. The charges were dropped. The families were compensated. It was all swept under—”

“Under the rug?” I finished for him. “Yes. I’m aware. Your connections in the prosecutor’s office did an excellent job making it all disappear.”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“But it didn’t really disappear, did it, Gerald? It’s all still there. Buried. Waiting.”

His jaw worked soundlessly.

“Let me refresh your memory,” I said, voice pleasant now. Conversational. “August 2008. You were involved in a development deal that required displacing several low-income families. When they refused to move, you hired a crew to ’persuade’ them. One of those families, the Parks, I believe… their son ended up in the hospital with a fractured skull and internal bleeding.”

Gerald’s face was ashen now.

“The case was dropped after a very generous settlement and some well-placed bribes to ensure the investigating officers looked the other way,” I continued. “But the medical records? The witness statements? The photographs of that fourteen-year-old boy’s injuries? Those are all right there in front of you.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“That’s not all, of course,” I said smoothly. “Should we discuss the labor violations? The immigrant workers you employed under the table and then refused to pay? The safety violations that led to two deaths on one of your construction sites… deaths you covered up by paying off the victims’ families and threatening anyone who spoke to the press?”

“I—” His voice cracked. “That was years ago. It was handled. No one—”

“No one remembers?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

I pulled out my phone again, opened a file, and slid it across the table.

He stared at the screen.

It was a photograph. A young man, maybe mid-thirties, standing outside a modest apartment building.

“That’s Park Jinho,” I said. “Son of Park Minsoo. The man whose skull you fractured when he was fourteen. He’s thirty-two now. Works as a mechanic. Still has headaches. Still has nightmares.”

Gerald’s hands were shaking visibly now.

“He doesn’t know who really gave the order back then,” I continued. “The men who beat him were never identified. But I wonder what would happen if someone gave him a name. An address. Proof.”

“You wouldn’t,” Gerald whispered.

I smiled.

Cold. Empty.

“Wouldn’t I?”

He stared at me, horror dawning in his eyes.

“You’re insane,” he breathed.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But I’m also very good at getting what I want.”

I leaned back, letting the silence press down on him like a weight.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said finally. “You’re going to sign over that property to XUM. Today. We’ll handle all the paperwork, all the logistics. You’ll take our offer, the very generous offer my father extended to you months ago and you’ll walk away quietly. No press. No drama.”

“And if I refuse?” he asked, voice barely audible.

I tilted my head.

“Then I’ll make sure every piece of evidence in that folder ends up in the hands of the right people. Prosecutors. Journalists. Victims’ families.” I paused. “And I’ll make sure your name is front and center when it all comes out.”

His face crumpled.

“You’ll be ruined,” I continued, voice soft now. Almost gentle. “Your reputation. Your business. Your family. Everything you’ve built will burn. And when you’re sitting in a prison cell… because yes, Gerald, I will make sure you go to prison, you’ll have plenty of time to think about your legacy.”

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Gerald’s shoulders sagged.

“How…” He swallowed hard. “How do I know you won’t release this anyway?”

“You don’t,” I said simply. “But I’m a businessman, not a sadist. If you give me what I want, I have no reason to destroy you.”

I stood, buttoning my suit jacket.

“Think it over,” I said. “You have until the end of the day. My assistant will send over the contracts.”

I turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

I stopped, glancing back.

Gerald was staring down at the folder, his face gray, his hands trembling.

“I’ll sign,” he whispered. “I’ll sign today.”

I smiled.

“Smart choice.”

I left the building and slid into the back of my car, exhaling slowly as the driver pulled into traffic.

My phone buzzed again.

A text from my father.

Charles Wolfe: I heard the Cho deal went through. Well done.

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I opened my contacts and scrolled to a number I’d saved months ago. A man I’d met briefly during my time in prison. A man who had connections. A man who owed me a favor.

I typed out a message.

Cassian: Gerald Cho. Attached are files on a crime from 2008. Victim: Park Minsoo. His son, Park Jinho. Handle it quietly.

I hit send.

Then I deleted the message thread.

By the end of the week, Gerald Cho would be dead. An unfortunate accident, the news would say. Or maybe a robbery gone wrong.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that people like Gerald didn’t deserve second chances.

And I didn’t leave loose ends.

I leaned back in my seat, watching the city blur past the window.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a calendar reminder.

Noah Bennett – Executive Liaison Assistant – Reports at 2:00 PM

I smiled.

Time to check on my new acquisition.

But first I needed to take care of something else.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep