Chapter 43: "How Do You Do It?!"
Author: Nathan Emorey
last update2026-03-25 09:01:25

The Principal whipped around, his chest heaving, spit flying from his lips. He pointed a trembling, accusatory finger directly at Nathan's face.

The heat of pure, homicidal anger radiated from Epstein’s eyes. If this had been yesterday –if Nathan was just the invisible, worthless janitor– Epstein would have crossed the room, grabbed the young man by the throat, and smashed his skull repeatedly against the walls. The urge to do it was written plainly in the tension of his shoulders and the white
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  • Chapter 218: The Crown Changes Hands

    When the family settled again, Dr. Sage Walters stood up.Even the arrests hadn’t shut them up like this. Sage standing was an event. He had run this empire for thirty-one years, mostly from behind glass and silence, and everyone at that table had spent their lives learning to read his moods the way farmers read the sky."Thirty-one years ago," Sage said, "my father sat in this chair and told the family that an empire is not something you own. It's a bet. Every generation, we put everything we have built on one question. Is the next hand strong enough to hold it?" He looked slowly around the table. "Some of you spent this season betting against my son. Openly. I know who you are and I know the amounts, and I want you to understand that I allowed it on purpose. A king who has never been bet against has never been tested. And an untested king is only a rich man waiting for a knife."His eyes settled on Nathan at the far end of the table."Eight days ago I handed my son a task designed t

  • Chapter 217: The Good Man

    Every head turned.Theodore Walters rose from his chair the way he did everything. No hurry. No noise."Most of you know me as um.. furniture," Theodore began. A few tired laughs went around the table, grateful for somewhere to put all that tension. "Eleven years. No wife anymore, God rest her. No children. No hobbies, unless you count contract law, and my late Miriam never did. This family has been the whole content of my life. And I have been content with that." He set a folder on the table. His hands, Nathan noticed, were perfectly steady. "Which is why what I am about to say costs me more than anything I have ever said in this room."He looked at the two empty chairs."The trap document came from my desk. Bush took it from my office last night. The boy did nothing wrong, and I ask the family not to trouble him about it." At the far end, Bush sank two inches lower in his chair and stayed there. "The reason it was on my desk is that I put it there. Because eight days ago, Ronav aske

  • Chapter 216: The Chamber

    Nobody moved.Nineteen people sat around that table, and not one of them made a sound. They had all just watched the same thing, and they were all thinking the same thought. The ground under this family had a trapdoor in it. And somebody had just pulled the lever.Nathan walked back to the foot of the table. He stayed on his feet."Ronav Walters. Abigail Walters-Croft." No anger in his voice now. That was the scary part. The anger had been used up somewhere else, days ago, in private. What was left was just business.Nathan continued, "Sixty-two million dollars. Eleven years. Two hundred and seven counts. You stole from every single person sitting here. From the aunts whose trusts you skimmed. From the cousins whose inheritance you priced into your own pockets. Fro

  • Chapter 215: Receipts

    The first document was a wire transfer.It was small, as these things went. Four hundred thousand dollars, eleven years old, moving from a Walters real estate subsidiary into a consulting firm in Zurich that had no employees, no office, and no function except to exist. Dwayne laid a copy in front of every chair like a dealer at a card table, unhurried, letting the paper do its own talking."The Meridian Shore purchase everyone is so concerned about," Nathan said, "was real. It was also bait. Not for me. I wasn't in the country. It was structured, eleven years ago, as a place to hide this." He tapped the page. "One payment. The first one. There are two hundred and six others."The second document was a chart, and the chart was where the room stopped breathing.It was simple by design. Nathan had spent four of his eighty-six hours making it simple, because a boardroom does not convict on complexity, it convicts on shape, and the shape was unmistakable. Eleven years of money leaving the

  • Chapter 214: Raw!

    "Why should this family trust a review conducted by a boy with eight days of experience?" The whole table held still. It was the question underneath every other question, the one they'd all carried in with their coffee. "You shouldn't," Nathan said. Cordelia's eyebrows rose a quarter inch. "Trust isn't what I'm asking for," he said. "Every figure I've cited this morning has a document number attached. The documents are in this room. Check me. Check all of it. I'd encourage it, honestly, because a Walters who asks to be trusted instead of checked is usually about to cost this family money." He looked at her, level, respectful, unafraid. "I didn't come here to be believed, Aunt. I came here to be verified. There's a difference, and the difference is the whole job." Cordelia stared at him. Eighty-one years of stares had gone into the making of this one, and lesser men than Nathan had confessed to crimes under weaker versions of it. Then she picked her pen back up, and

  • Chapter 213: The Long Table

    The grand boardroom of the Walters estate had not been used, truly used, in six years.It sat at the very heart of the main house like a chamber of state. One table, forty feet of black walnut cut from a single tree, polished until the ceiling lights lay on its surface like coins at the bottom of a well. Nineteen chairs. No windows. Sage had built it that way on purpose. In this room, there was no weather, no time of day, no world outside. There was only the family, and the truth, and whichever of the two proved stronger.By nine o'clock, every chair was full.They had begun arriving at half past eight, and the seating itself was a war conducted in silence. Aunt Cordelia, eighty-one and the oldest living Walters, took the chair at Sage's right hand as birthright and dared anyone with her eyes. Uncle Amos, who ran shipping out of Singapore and had flown sixteen hours for this, positioned himself dead center where he could watch both ends of the table at once, which was Amos all over. P

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