Corporate Takeover

The sleek elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the chaotic gasps echoing across the grand lobby. Sloane stood at the center of the polished steel carriage, radiating an effortless authority. She turned her cold gaze toward the vice CEO.

"Declan, there are a few empty slots on the roster today, are there not?" she asked, her voice echoing lightly in the enclosed space.

Declan Mercer offered a respectful nod, though a bead of sweat formed at his temple. "Yes, Miss Kensington. The older directors refused to come down. They are headed by your uncle, Mr. Gideon. They believe stepping out of their designated space is beneath them, and they want to make it clear they are still the ones in charge."

Sloane let out a dry, dismissive scoff. "Is that so? The reality of this company has changed, but my uncles remain clueless to who holds the power now."

Up on the top floor, the heavy mahogany doors of the chairman’s boardroom remained shut. Gideon Kensington lounged at the head of the long table, crossing his legs while sipping a fresh espresso. Five loyal directors sat around him, all feigning nonchalance while nursing a quiet, gnawing anxiety.

Gideon slammed his delicate porcelain cup onto the saucer. "Why isn't anyone here yet? Go check on this." He waved an impatient hand at the young female secretary trembling by the door.

Vaughn Kensington adjusted the dark collar of his priest outfit and thumbed the wooden rosary draped around his neck. "Gideon, you need to relax. He will come to us eventually. The new boss is probably just throwing his weight around to assert himself before we negotiate."

Gideon shook his head, his chubby face wrinkling in disdain. "Youngsters today lack basic respect. But it does not matter. Just stick to our plan. This company belongs to our family, and I have the final say."

The heavy doors suddenly creaked open. The secretary stumbled back into the room, her face drained of all color. She gripped her tablet with white knuckles. "Bad news, Mr. Gideon. The new CEO bypassed us entirely. They summoned all the management to a different meeting room on the lower level, and the assembly is wrapping up right now."

Gideon and Vaughn leaped from their leather chairs.

Gideon bellowed, his face turning a blotchy red. "What kind of disrespect is this? We kept this company afloat while it was drowning. How dare he ignore us?"

The secretary swallowed hard, backing away from his wrath. "The CEO isn't a man, sir. It is a woman."

Moments later, the ousted directors barged into the alternate meeting hall, throwing the double doors wide open. Gideon and Vaughn stormed in, ready to rain fire on the arrogant new buyer.

They froze in their tracks. Sheer horror drained the fury from their faces.

Sloane sat at the head of the conference table. She leaned lazily back in her ergonomic chair, watching the intruders with the calm, predatory grace of a hunter.

Three years ago, the sole Kensington heiress had vanished, supposedly dead after a tragic fall off a mountain cliff. With her body unrecovered, Gideon and Vaughn had wasted no time carving up her assets and seizing control of her shares. They never expected the ghost of their niece to return as the corporate savior who had just swallowed fifty-one percent of the company’s equity.

Sloane relished the sheer terror painting their features. "Uncle Gideon, Uncle Vaughn. Aren't you happy to see me?"

The question snapped the men out of their paralysis. Gideon forced a wet, trembling smile, squeezing out fake tears as he rushed forward with open arms. "Thank god you are safe, Sloane! We missed you so much. Your parents would be weeping with joy to see you alive."

Sloane slid her rolling chair back with a sharp squeak, halting him in his tracks before he could touch her. She pinned both men with an icy, unforgiving glare. "That is true."

The temperature in the room plummeted. Gideon and Vaughn stood awkwardly, panic settling deep in their bones under her unblinking stare.

Sloane shifted her attention away from them, addressing the stunned executives lining the table. "The Kensington Group was built on my parents' blood and sweat. Now that I am back, I will establish firm control and set things straight. I will generously reward those who actually deserve it, and as for those who spend their time scheming in the shadows..." Sloane paused, letting her menacing gaze snap back to Gideon and Vaughn. "I will not show a single ounce of mercy."

Hundreds of miles away in Blackridge, the atmosphere in the private hospital suite was suffocating.

Kaelen sat stiffly beside a frail Valeria, pressing his phone tight against his ear. "No trace of her? Are you useless?"

On the other end of the line, his assistant stammered. "Mr. Vance, I checked every surveillance camera near the villa. She just vanished into the night. The only thing I dug up is that Sloane's hometown is Ashbourne and her parents passed away from illness years ago. That is all there is on record."

Valeria scoffed from the hospital bed, her pale lips twisting into a dismissive sneer. "She is just a nobody from the countryside. Since she took off without causing a scene, let us drop it. Kaelen, I will always be the one by your side."

Kaelen ignored the frail woman. His dark eyes remained fixed on the rain pattering against the glass window. The untouched millions, the signed divorce papers, and the solid gold anniversary gift gnawed at his mind. His quiet ex-wife had walked away from everything without looking back. He knew something was wrong.

Kaelen's voice grew colder. "Expand the search to Ashbourne immediately. I hardly think a living person can evaporate into thin air without leaving a trail."

The assistant quickly pivoted, sensing his boss's rising temper and wanting to change the subject. "Yes, sir. There is one other piece of news. It is about the corporate market. The mysterious buyer who saved the Kensington Group finally revealed herself today."

Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "Speak."

"The new majority shareholder is Miss Sloane Kensington."

Kaelen raised his eyebrows, a profound intrigue washing over his rigid features. The wealthy Kensington heiress was supposed to have died three years ago.