THE TRASH YOU MOCKED

11- the power that draws enemies

Location: Goodlife Hotel, Geneva

The room was in silence, windowless and cold, as though designed for an apocalypse event.

There was a long table and ten chairs, except one which was empty.

Most of them never spoke publicly. Some were considered dead. One or two had never been known by name at all but whose money swayed governments.

It had been years since a meeting like this was called.

And now, they were here.

A low murmur passed between the men seated at the table.

Each of them held the power to destabilize a market, ignite a proxy war, or bury a reputation so deep no legacy could resurface. They were rivals in ambition but united by a single concern.... Evan Lancaster.

Then the door hissed open.

Madam Xin entered, wrapped in a slate-gray gown. She was the only woman allowed in their presence, and even then, only because she was too valuable to dismiss.

She placed a leather folder on the table as she occupied the only seat left. The murmurs stopped as she sat.

The doors sealed shut, soundproofed.

“A meeting like this hasn't happened in over a decade,” muttered Victor Romano, who leaned back with his arms folded.

Xin slowly smiled, “We all know why we’re here."

There was a moment of silence then Aurelio Vegan, a shadow banker who sat at the head of the table, leaned forward. “The boy.”

He pressed a button and a sleek monitor rose from the center of the table.

Footage began to play.

Evan, dressed in a tailored suit, stepped out of the building.... the Lancaster Foundation HQ, recently reactivated after ten years. A return no one anticipated. He shook hands with dignitaries, nodded at the cameras, then paused.

He looked straight into the lens.

Like he knew.

“Evan Lancaster.” Dmitri Zolonsky’s voice dropped like an anvil.

No one needed a briefing. Every man and woman at that table had at one point in time had a connection to that name.

"Bold move, showing his face after all these years," muttered Hassan el-Razi, an oil prince turned.

He reclined in his chair, fingers steepled. "Either he's unaware of the circumstances regarding his lineage… or he's being groomed for something bigger."

A third voice, calmer, almost amused, cut in. "He walks like a man who knows he has protection. And why now? How did he survive his preordained ending. How did he survive the attack!"

It was Marcus Garry, a media mogul. He’d destroyed entire bloodlines without ever firing a bullet.

“More importantly, What does he want?” asked Takamura, an ex-defense baron from Japan.

" He's sending a warning" Madam Xin added, eyeing everyone in the room.

"A warning?" asked Varkik blenskov, a former defense tech czar now in the shadows of advanced military tech weaponization "Or a dare?!"

"Neither," said André Fallie, a French intelligence defacator. "He wants us to know he's back."

A silence fell upon the room as they all pondered on what to do next.

Then Malik Omolola, a West African rare-earth baron spoke up " I thought he was dead... I thought we erased the Lancasters! The accords were clear... how come I'm staring at a ghost?! ”

"Yet here he is," muttered Garry, swirling a glass of champagne. " I heard the boy’s making moves.”

Yun-Ho Park, a finance billionaire from korea, leaned forward. “Not so much a boy anymore. He’s moving quietly... rebuilding his father’s old network, buying assets. He's planning something .”

“ hmmm ” Takamura said.

Takamura clasped his hands. “Shouldn't we take him out of the way?”

“No! ” said Dmitri Zelonsky “ We let him rise… just high enough to see what kind of king he intends to be.”

“And if he overreaches?” Omolola asked.

“Then we cut his feet and remind the world that the Lancaster name is just a footnote in history,” Aurelio said smoothly.

Then Romano spoke up “ I've a feeling that he's dangerous "

" That shouldn't be a problem" Aurelio answered " We’ve buried a Lancaster once. We can do it again.”

A sharp silence followed his words.

The screen at the center of the table dimmed, fading from satellite imagery to black. Each of the Ten leaned back slightly, pondering.

Aurelio tapped his fingers on the board and continued “For now, we'll send him a message.”

Romano let out an evil smile

Hassan el-Razi sat well "And if he doesn’t get the message?”

“Then,” Varkik blenskov said darkly, “he’ll receive a louder one.”

Another silence.

No vote was needed. The message would be sent. In this world, silence meant consent.

.....

The next day, Evan received a call from the Federal bank, questioning the legitimacy of his sudden liquidity.

He paid little attention to it and got it sorted

The next day, his permits for a major real estate project were delayed for further environmental review and kept on pending.

In New York, one of his newly acquired logistics firms was served with a huge lawsuit from former employees.

Evan’s legal counsel suspected the plaintiff’s lawyers were being funded… but by who, they couldn’t say.

It was beginning to get Evan frustrated.

Then during his travels, a low-ranking operative approached one of Evan’s directors at a private club in Berlin offering to buy his assets or else risk losing his life.

In Dubai, another of Evan’s shell companies received an offer...seven times its valuation.

it was anonymous with a one-day deadline.

One by one, his companies were choked in a legal fog.

His suppliers started backing out and contracts were cancelled with vague compliance concerns.

Key banking partners grew cold and some withdrew entirely.

Soon after, a leaked story in a New york financial journal questioned the legality of Evan’s offshore acquisitions.

The message was clear. Sell or surrender. Or chose to fight and be eliminated.

But the question is who?

And that's why baffles Evan.

He walked into the Lancaster main living room that afternoon, scattering his hair in frustration, thinking about it.

He met Harland casually seated, having a glass of wine.

He sank into the seat beside him and faced him.

" Everything is going sideways, I'm tired! The offshore companies, the proxies and lawsuits... I can't just understand where all this is coming from!" He vented his anger.

To his amusement, Harland chuckled.

" Took them long enough... I thought they were never going to show up..."he took a sip.

Evan was confused.

" What are you talking about?! Do you know who's behind all this?"

Harland dropped his glass and turned to him.

" They call themselves the Ten.... And boyyy.... They were a long, long oppositors of your father..."

" The Ten?"

Evan had never heard of it.

" What does it mean?" He sat well.

Harland chuckled “You ever wonder why the media never covered your father’s fall in full? Why his businesses collapsed in silence, with no real investigation? Why the board turned on him overnight and why the same is happening to you?”

Evan leaned forward, trying to connect the dots“You’re saying it wasn’t the market.”

Harland chuckled bitterly. “Your father made enemies, son. Not the usual ones. Old money. Shadow rulers. The kind of men who don’t run for office but influence every decision made in the country”

Evan narrowed his eyes. “So who are they exactly? CEOs? Politicians?”

“Worse.” Harland poured himself another drink “They’re a council of power and control. Each one owns something vital. Oil. Media. Arms. Data. Pharmaceuticals. "

He looked Evan dead in the eye." And now they're coming for you"