Chapter 24: The Art of War
I didn't flinch. I didn't break eye contact.
I slowly walked over to the antique mahogany bar cart, poured myself a glass of sparkling water, and took a deliberate, refreshing sip.
"Are you quite finished, Arthur?" I asked quietly.
Arthur blinked, clearly thrown off by my complete lack of terror. "You think I'm bluffing?"
"No," I replied, turning to face the council of billionaires. "I know you aren't bluffing. I know exactly how you operate. Which is why, while you were sitting in this smoky room plotting my downfall, I was busy."
I snapped my fingers.
The heavy steel doors of the club swung open. Vance, my towering head of private security, walked in holding a sleek, silver aluminum briefcase. He bypassed the angry shouts of the club's private guards, walked directly up to me, handed me the briefcase, and stepped back into the shadows.
I set the briefcase on the heavy oak table in the center of the room and popped the latches.
"You threatened to have the governor audit my foundation," I said, pulling out a thick stack of glossy photographs and financial wire transfers. I tossed them onto the table. "You might want to call him first. Because last night, I purchased the parent company of the media conglomerate that covers this state. And I currently possess irrefutable, documented proof of the offshore bribes you’ve been paying his administration for a decade."
Arthur’s face turned the color of wet ash. One of the other billionaires violently choked on his drink.
"You wouldn't dare," Arthur whispered, his hands beginning to shake. "That would destroy the state’s political infrastructure!"
"I don't care about the state's infrastructure," I said coldly. "I care about my children's legacy."
I pulled out a second stack of heavily watermarked legal deeds and slammed them down next to the photos.
"You threatened to revoke my real estate permits," I continued, stepping closer to Arthur, letting my shadow fall over him. "So, this morning, I used the liquid capital from the Vanguard Bank to quietly purchase the thousands of acres of private land that your oil pipelines currently run through. The land leases expire at midnight."
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Arthur’s jaw practically hit the floor. The cigar slipped from his fingers, burning a hole into the expensive Persian rug.
"If you so much as look at my company the wrong way," I promised, my voice a lethal, vibrating hum, "I will not renew your leases. I will shut off the valves. I will completely bankrupt your energy empire before the stock market even opens on Monday."
