Second Chance For Revenge

Chapter 8

The question hit Gerald hard. For a wild second, his mind spun. He had this thought, maybe she knew he was from the future.

Gerald's frown deepened. "I don't have time to be stressing my brain over guessing games," he said. "Just tell me what you're here for."

The woman studied him a moment longer, then let the smile widen just slightly.

"Fine. Straight to business, then," she said. "I'm Janet Cornet. Chemistry researcher by training, though these days I mostly work the investment side, I'm a portfolio manager at Halvorsen Capital."

Gerald frowned again. Janet Cornet. The name scratched at something in the back of his mind, familiar in a way he couldn't place, like a word sitting just past the tip of his tongue.

"So what exactly did you call me here for?" he asked.

Janet folded her hands in her lap. "My employer would like to buy out your shares in Newtop. The two million tonight was only a good-faith deposit. There's significantly more on the table if you're willing to talk."

Gerald went still, and then he almost laughed. Of everything he'd expected walking out of that restaurant, this hadn't been on the list.

Actually, he had expected the 2 million dollars was from Newtop direct. Not from any third party.

His stake in Newtop wasn't just a number on paper, it was the seat he wanted to earn, because that position as the head director of Newtop would make him be one of them. Because Newtop would matter a lot in the future.

Selling it now would gain him nothing. Less than nothing.

"I think we're done here," he said flatly. "I'm not interested in selling. Not tonight, not ever."

Something flickered across Janet's face — not quite anger, more like mild surprise that quickly smoothed itself back into composure. She smiled anyway.

"Before you decide that for certain, will you at least meet my employer? He's waiting at the Zenith. Ten minutes of your time."

"My answer won't change," Gerald said, "even if your employer were the president himself."

"Humor me anyway," Janet said. "Ten minutes."

Against his better judgment, Gerald nodded, and they made their way to the car.

The Zenith lived up to its name, marble underfoot, low gold lighting, the particular hush that only real money could buy. They crossed the lobby and were led to a private seating area, where a man rose to greet them the moment they approached, all warm smiles and practiced charm.

"Gerald," Janet said, "meet my employer. Mr. Raphael Lee."

The name landed like a dropped glass.

Gerald's head snapped up before he could stop it.

*Raphael Lee.*

In the years to come, during the cold apocalypse, that name wasn't spoken loudly.

It was spoken in whispers, in warnings, in the kind of hushed dread reserved for men who had stopped being men and become something closer to a plague.

Raphael Lee, was to be founder of the Titans gang, the syndicate that had bled half the survivor settlements dry.

They wouldn't just steal. They took everything from people. Start from food, medicine, fuel, even shelter and leave nothing behind but obedience.

In fact, they would rape, and molest, and kill. They were even worse than the apocalypse.

People were to hand over ten percent of their supplies every month just to be allowed to keep breathing.

And here he was, smiling, offering Gerald a handshake.

Gerald frowned. "This is your boss?"

Raphael smiled and stood taller. "Yes. I am Raphael, the COO of the Vortex Group."

Gerald studied him for a second. This is definitely him.

He did not accept the handshake. Instead he said outright, "Look, she already told me your intention. And I am not selling my shares. Simple as that."

Raphael kept smiling like the rejection meant nothing. "Why don't you sit down first. We have a lot to talk about."

"No," Gerald snapped. "We don't have a lot to talk about. That's my final answer."

Raphael tilted his head. "Do you know Newtop will crash again? Your investment gave them a small push, but they are still struggling. They haven't even found their feet yet. That's the real reason they haven't paid you your percentage, even after you helped them turn a profit. I was the one who had to cover that payment for them. Who knows. Maybe they will never be able to pay you at all."

Gerald's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. "Look, I don't care what they do or what becomes of Newtop. I had my own reasons for investing in them. I'm not selling. I'll return your money tomorrow."

He stayed rigid as he spoke, arms crossed, giving nothing away.

But inside, his mind was racing. He knew something Raphael didn't. Newtop would somehow survive. Not just survive, they would rise, right in the middle of the cold apocalypse, and become one of the biggest suppliers and inventors that people would depend on to stay alive. The serum he had gone to get for Tina, right before he was killed, had come from Newtop. If Raphael ever got his hands on that company, it would be a disaster for everyone.

Raphael's smile didn't fade, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

"I will pay you five million dollars," he said.

He expected Gerald to react. To hesitate, to soften, maybe even to smile back.

Gerald only scoffed. "Even if you offered me fifty million dollars, I still won't sell."

The room went quiet for a moment. Janet shifted slightly in her seat.

Raphael finally sat back down, folding his hands on the table. His smile was gone now, replaced with something colder, more calculating.

"I already did my research about you," Raphael said slowly, "You are poor and struggling. Even the money you invest was your life savings, but you wouldn't accept 5 million dollars."

Gerald kept his face blank. Because that 5 million dollars would become something you can light up to warm yourself after a month now.

"Everyone has a price," Raphael added quietly. “So name it”.