Mine
last update2025-11-23 19:52:38

The sun hadn't even risen when Lawrence arrived at the airport.

His clothes were still damp from last night's storm and his eyes looked hollow but alive. A kind of exhaustion that had purpose behind it.

He didn't have a suitcase to his name, only a worn-out backpack that carried the few things he hadn't lost; his phone, his tattered wallet, and his passport.

The flight attendant at check-in eyed him suspiciously.

"One-way ticket to Zurich?"

"Yes," he replied quietly, sliding his ID across the counter.

She hesitated at first, typing slowly before printing the boarding pass. "Gate 17. Boarding in 45 minutes."

He nodded, took the pass and began walking away.

But she suddenly called him back.

"Oh," she said, her face morphed from that of suspicion to admiration.

"You just got upgraded to first class."

"What?" Lawrence exclaimed. "I don't remember—"

"I'll just get that boarding pass ready for you, sir."

The 'sir' slipped out of her tongue like it was the best sound Lawrence had ever heard.

He smiled. "Of course. Thank you."

He grabbed the upgraded boarding pass and walked away.

When he finally sat by the window, watching planes lift off one by one, it felt unreal.

A flight attendant moved towards him with a tray of different snacks and drinks. "Would you like anything, sir?"

He smiled. He could get used to this.

He was about to decline but his stomach growled in protest.

"I think I'll just have the bread and cheese, for now."

The attendant handed it to him. "What would you want for your main course?"

"How about rice and chicken sauce?"

"Of course."

The flight attendant walked away with her tray.

With a smile on his face, he closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, his thoughts were somewhat clear.

He had nothing but he was going somewhere that could change everything.

The flight was long, almost ten hours.

He barely spoke to anyone, except the flight attendants who would come to check in and ask if he was comfortable and enjoying his flight.

Sometimes, his mind drifted to Rebecca's face, to Jordan's smug grin, to the laughter of his in-laws when they told him he was worthless.

He clenched his jaw. "You'll eat those words soon enough."

He slept for a few hours, then woke up as the captain announced their descent.

The view outside made him pause — snow-dusted peaks, lakes glinting in pale sunlight, and a skyline of glass towers. Zurich was cold, beautiful, and merciless.

Just like the future waiting for him.

At the arrivals terminal, a man in a charcoal suit stood with a placard that read:

Mr Lawrence Stiff—LanceCorp.

The man's expression didn't waver when Lawrence approached. He simply bowed and said, "Welcome to Switzerland, sir. I'm Mr Kent."

Lawrence blinked. "You…..you're the one who spoke to me over the phone?"

"The very same." Kent's smile was small but it seemed to reach his eyes.

"I trust your flight was tolerable?"

"It most definitely was enjoyable."

Kent motioned toward the exit. "Your car is waiting, sir. There's so much to discuss on the way."

The car parked right in front of Lawrence was a black Bentley, it was three grades above Jordan's.

The car ride was sleek and silent, like they were gliding through the icy streets.

Kent poured him a cup of coffee from a thermos. "You've inherited not just a company, Mr Stiff, but an empire. LanceCorp dominates logistics, finance, biotechnology and defense. But without a leader, factions have begun to form deep inside the company, within the board."

Lawrence sipped the coffee, his fingers still cold. "Factions?"

Kent nodded. "Yes, some want to divide the company, others want to install some kind of….puppet CEO. Someone they can bend and twist, someone who'll bark and go silent, and be at their every beck and call. But the chairman's will was clear. Only you, Lawrence Stiff, inherit everything."

Lawrence's expression remained unreadable. "And I'm guessing that they don't plan on welcoming me with open arms or sitting still."

Kent gave his small smile again. "You assume correctly, sir."

"And what about you?" Lawrence suddenly asked. "Where do you stand in all this?"

Kent was quiet for a while, staring out the window, before he finally spoke.

"For me…..I don't desire wealth or anything like that."

"Then what's your gain? Because as the executive secretary, this seat was supposed to be yours to take."

Kent chuckled softly. "Indeed. But I've been with Mr Thomas for more than twelve years and never have I felt inferior. He was more than good to me. So when he told me that he had someone he believed would run his company smoothly, I didn't question him."

He paused.

"For the twelve years that I've been with him, never has he made a decision that went wrong. So I'm trusting in him, even in death. So believe me when I tell you, I have no interest in wealth."

With that being said, Lawrence freed his mind towards Kent.

They stopped before a towering building, over eighty stories of mirrored glass, reflecting the pale Swiss sky. At the very top, the LanceCorp emblem gleamed like a crown.

Lawrence stepped out of the car, breath misting in the cold. He tilted his head back, taking in the glorious sight before him.

This is mine.

The thought felt strange, almost too good to be real.

He followed Kent through the revolving doors. Inside, the lobby was vast, marble floors stretching endlessly.

Every head turned when he walked in—executives, interns, guards—all staring at the rumpled-clothed, travel-torn man in an old coat walking beside Mr Kent.

Murmurs rippled through the air.

"Who is that?"

"That's the guy the chairman claimed to be his heir."

"No way. He looks like he can't even afford a hotel."

Lawrence ignored them. It wasn't a first for him and it most definitely wouldn't be the last.

They entered the elevator. Kent pressed the top floor. As the doors closed, Kent glanced at him. "They will test you, sir. They don't believe in the upcoming, only in money and strength."

"Then I'll show them both," Lawrence said quietly.

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  • CHAPTER 102: THE RESTITUTION FRAMEWORK

    Nobody in Lawrence's inner circle saw it coming, and the fact that nobody saw it coming was part of why it worked.He did not discuss it with Isabelle first. He did not run it through Kent's cautious review process. He did not test it with Blackwell or workshop it with Elena or float it to the board as a proposal requiring approval. He drafted the press release himself at eleven o'clock on a Tuesday night, had his legal team review the structural language for two hours on Wednesday morning, and issued it to every major European financial newswire at noon.The release was four paragraphs. The headline read: LanceCorp CEO Lawrence Stiff announces establishment of the Lance Legacy Foundation, a four-billion-euro independent endowment for restitution of demonstrable harm caused by Thomas Lance's business practices, governed independently of LanceCorp management.Kent read it on his phone, called Lawrence immediately, and said, "You did not tell me.""No," Lawrence said."Four billion euro

  • CHAPTER 101: THE DEAL WITH ASHBY

    The lead lawyer's name was Claudia Vetter, and she had spent thirty-two years building a reputation for finding the precise boundary between what was legally permissible and what was legally catastrophic, and when Lawrence called her at seven in the morning she had already been awake for two hours."Give me the conclusion first," Lawrence said. "Then the reasoning.""The conclusion is that we have a defensible basis," Claudia said. "The confidentiality agreements you signed were drafted specifically to prevent public disclosure, disclosure to law enforcement in the prosecution sense, and disclosure to the media. They were not drafted to address formal information exchange between a private party and a foreign intelligence service under a bilateral security framework, because that is a category the drafting parties did not contemplate.""Which means?" Lawrence said."Which means there is a narrow but genuine legal argument that sharing the relevant Sentinel materials with MI6 under a s

  • CHAPTER 100: THE BRITISH INTELLIGENCE MEETING

    Robert Ashby arrived at the meeting without a briefcase, without an assistant, and without a single piece of paper, which told Lawrence more about him in the first thirty seconds than most people reveal in an hour.The meeting was held in a private room at a members-only club in Geneva that Lord Blackwell used for conversations that required discretion without theatrics, and Blackwell sat at the table long enough to make the introductions before excusing himself with the easy manner of a man who understood that his usefulness in this specific room had ended the moment both parties were seated.Ashby was in his mid-fifties, with the kind of face that did not advertise anything about its owner, and he spoke quietly and precisely, the way a person speaks when they have learned over a long career that unnecessary words create unnecessary complications."I appreciate you making the time," Ashby said."Lor

  • CHAPTER 99: THE INTERNAL REVOLT

    The complaint landed on Swiss prosecutors' desks at 9:14 AM, and by 9:47 AM Kent had a copy of the filing summary in his hands and was reading it with the expression of a man watching something historic happen at close range.Three names at the top of the document: Arthur Brennan. Margaret Cole. David Hartley.Three of Drayton's own people, filing a formal criminal complaint against the man who had recruited them, funded them, and built the entire structure they had operated inside for years. The charges were not vague. They were specific and documented: criminal conspiracy, extortion across multiple jurisdictions, and direct facilitation of The Prague Group's attempted assassination operations. The sworn statements were attached. The documentary evidence was attached. The filing was professionally prepared, which meant it had been in preparation for longer than yesterday, and someone with genuine legal expertise had helped these three indiv

  • CHAPTER 98: DRAYTON'S CALL

    Kent and Isabelle were already in the conference room when Lawrence arrived with his phone and Drayton's message on the screen, and the three of them spent the next three hours doing what they did best, which was arguing about the same question from three completely different angles without any of them being entirely wrong."It is a trap," Isabelle said, within the first five minutes. "He knows his organization is fracturing. He knows the Prague Group arrests are in the news. He wants to look at you face to face and assess how close you are to a position of genuine strength, because that tells him how much time he has left to cause damage.""That is possible," Kent said. "It is also possible that a man with four months left who has watched two of his own people meet privately with Lawrence, and the Prague Group dismantled through a legal channel, is reassessing whether the war he started is going to produce the result he wanted before he runs out of time to see it.""Which means what

  • CHAPTER 97: THE PRAGUE GROUP ELIMINATED

    Eleven days is a long time to wait when someone is building a plan to kill you, but it is also exactly how long it takes to build a plan that actually works, and Lawrence had learned enough in the past year to choose patience over speed when patience was the smarter option.Erik ran the eleven-day operation with the methodical discipline of someone who understood that incomplete intelligence was more dangerous than no intelligence at all. He worked with the information from the apprehended maintenance worker, cross-referenced against the operational communications Sebastian had provided from his Assembly period, and used Volkov's local contacts in France, Belgium, Germany, and Austria to fill in the gaps that official channels could not reach.On the eleventh day, Erik came to Lawrence's office and closed the door behind him."I have a complete picture," Erik said. "And I need you to make a decision.Lawrence set down what he was reading. "Tell me.""There is a safe house outside Lyon

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