Chapter 140 The Shareholder Assembly
The morning of the quarterly shareholder assembly arrived with a suffocating weight.
Carlos Mason stood inside the executive elevator bay of Mason Industries, adjusting the cuffs of his dark charcoal suit.
He didn't look like a man about to win a multi-billion-dollar empire; he looked like a ghost walking toward a firing squad.
His face was pale, his sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, and his dark eyes were entirely hollow.
For the past two weeks, since the devastating night Teresa had found the tracking file, pulled off her wedding band, and vanished into the Brooklyn rain, Carlos hadn't slept for a single consecutive hour.
He had spent his nights sitting inside his car outside any location he thought she might hide, his heart tearing itself apart.
"Carlos, the independent proxies are completely locked," Beatrice Chen stated cleanly, stepping up to his side as the elevator doors chimed open.
"The compliance files are cleared, and the swing voters are prepared to back your portfolio the exact second the ballots launch. On paper, your defense is flawless."
"Let's get it over with, Beatrice," Carlos murmured, his baritone rough, granular, and entirely devoid of life.
They walked onto the boardroom floor. The massive mahogany table was surrounded by all twelve directors, the atmosphere thick with an intense, unvarnished corporate friction.
Sitting at the head of the table was Justin Mason, flanked by Dominic Ashford, who had officially traveled across the Atlantic to deploy his massive European proxies to back Justin's crown.
Justin locked eyes with his cousin, his expression unyielding and cold. "Carlos. I see your legal detail has cleared the probate gate."
"The thirty-five percent voting block belongs to my bloodline, Justin," Carlos stated flatly, claiming his seat at the opposite end of the table without a single drop of his usual predatory fire. "Launch the ballot lines."
Beatrice Chen executed the legal presentation with a flawless, clinical precision. For forty-five minutes, she deconstructed the corporate bylaws, presented the certified probate records, and established Carlos's unassailable right to representation.
When the digital voting terminals illuminated, the directors made their moves. Patterson, Chen, and Reyes cleared their votes into Carlos's column instantly, followed rapidly by the independent swing voters who had been won over by Teresa’s massive gallery success.
The screen flashed a definitive green.
"The motion clears," the corporate secretary announced into the quiet room. "With an absolute majority, Carlos Mason officially wins the vote, securing a permanent seat on the board of directors."
Director Patterson offered a warm nod of congratulations, but Carlos didn't blink. He looked down at his large, trembling hand resting on the dark mahogany table.
He had won. He had successfully claimed his father's throne, broken the generational cycle, and forced the old guard to recognize his power. But as he stared at his bare ring finger, a bitter, agonizing truth settled deep into his chest.
The victory was completely hollow. He had won his crown, but his hand was entirely empty. He had lost his queen.