Chapter 842

The boardroom was thick with tension.

Not a single voice broke the silence.

Nathan Blackwood lounged in his seat, utterly unbothered. His expression gave nothing away—no panic, no urgency. Only patience.

Whoever spoke first would lose the upper hand.

In the end, Reginald Blackwood cracked.

The old man’s sharp, calculating gaze narrowed. Age hadn’t dulled the shrewdness in his eyes.

"You may have grown, Nathan, but you’re still too green," Reginald said, voice dripping with condescension. "After consulting the shareholders, we’ve concluded you’re unfit for this position. A vote will be held to appoint a new CEO."

No sugarcoating. No pretense. Just a direct declaration of war.

One of the Ferguson family’s lackeys coughed, attempting to soften the blow.

"Reginald merely suggests you take a sabbatical abroad. When you return, you’ll still have a place at Blackwood Industries—"

A place? More like a demotion to glorified intern.

Nathan’s lips curled into a cold smirk. His wealth far surpassed Blackwood Industries. He owned countless companies, each more lucrative than the last. He didn’t need this empire.

But no one forced him out.

Ever.

His gaze locked onto Reginald. "Care to clarify, Grandfather? In front of everyone?"

Nathan held 61% of the shares. Majority stakeholder.

Removing him wouldn’t be so simple.

Reginald’s voice turned icy. "Ten percent of those shares were entrusted to you. That trust can be revoked."

A pause. Then, the old man struck harder.

"Blackwood Industries doesn’t tolerate ingrates. Look at the damage you’ve caused—crisis after crisis. Thirty billion lost overnight. How do you answer to the shareholders for that?"

Nathan almost laughed.

Reginald was pinning his own failures—his and Sophia’s—on him. Sacrificing his own reputation just to win.

Pathetic.

Nathan’s disdain was palpable. Once, Reginald had been formidable. Now? Reduced to cheap tricks against his own grandson.

His eyes flicked around the room. Adrian and Charles were absent. Smart. They knew better than to get involved.

"Answer?" Nathan’s voice was lethally calm. "To whom? Without two-thirds shareholder approval, your little coup won’t hold."

Reginald’s jaw tightened. "You risked this company for a woman. You’ve lost the right to lead. The board agrees—I’m taking over."

Smug. Arrogant.

Nathan scanned the room. Silence.

They feared him. When he became CEO, he’d stripped their privileges, cut their excesses. Now they hoped to profit from the family feud.

But they wouldn’t gamble unless they were sure Reginald would win.

Nathan’s smile was razor-thin. "Is that so?"

No one spoke.

Reginald clapped his hands.

The conference room doors swung open.