The Husband They Threw Away Runs This Town Now

Chapter 5: The Conqueror

Erick held the board members in their seats; no one dared leave. The room was silent, save for the rustle of financial reports on the mahogany table.

Eight of New York’s most powerful men sat stiffly, watching him with the same fear they had tried to hide five years ago.

At the head of the table, Erick unwrapped a cheap egg-and-cheese sandwich from a corner store. The paper crackled. He took a slow bite and washed it down with tap water from a paper cup.

No one said a word. Nobody even touched the water bottles in front of them.

“Marcus,” Erick said.

The older billionaire nearly jumped. “Y-Yes… Chairman?”

Erick tapped the report. “The two-hundred-million-dollar emergency facility for Laurent Corp. Approve it or kill it?”

Marcus swallowed hard. “From a market stability standpoint… the Laurent Group still controls several infrastructure contracts. If they collapse too quickly, there could be…”

“They’re thieves,” Erick interrupted calmly. “They don’t deserve a bailout.”

Marcus lowered his eyes. “I understand.”

The boardroom doors opened, and Aria stepped inside. She placed an encrypted satellite phone next to Erick.

“Chairman. Congressman Clarke has called six times. He knows someone accessed the FBI backdoor through GD Tech.”

The directors stiffened. Aria continued as if she were discussing the weather. “He’s requesting an immediate conversation.”

Erick didn’t look at the phone. “Tell Congressman Clarke I’ll return his call.”

Aria left with the phone, leaving an unbearable silence. The men exchanged uneasy looks: if a U.S. congressman was waiting, how much influence had Erick been hiding?

Erick flipped a page. His cracked smartphone vibrated on the table. It was Dominique. He answered and put her on speaker.

“Erick!” Her voice sliced through the room. “Where are you? I’ve called you thirty times.”

Erick leaned back. “A little busy.”

“I’m done covering for you,” Dominique snapped. “Vanessa’s divorce party starts at eight. Martin will be there. Wear something decent for once; I’m tired of everyone asking why my husband dresses like maintenance staff.”

Erick looked at the executives surrounding him. “I’ll see what’s clean.”

“There’ll be a private gathering before the party,” she continued. “Martin’s father pulled strings with the Defense Department. The least you can do is kneel and apologize for making a fool of yourself.”

The board members looked uncomfortable. They had spent years trying to meet the kind of politicians Martin Clarke could see effortlessly.

Erick looked at the satellite phone. The congressman could wait. His wife thought he needed permission to attend a party. The contrast amused him.

“Martin will get what he deserves tonight,” Erick said.

“Good,” Dominique replied, and the line disconnected.

For a moment, nobody moved. Erick checked the clock. Four o’clock. He closed the report with a loud thud.

“It’s four,” Erick said, glancing from one director to the next. “You have until one in the morning to fix Victor’s mistake.”

“To… do what?” Michael asked.

“The Laurent bailout is cancelled,” Erick said. He stood up. “If Victor objects, he won’t be a shareholder for much longer.”

No one argued. Erick buttoned his worn jacket.

“If anyone discusses this meeting outside these walls, you’ll wish Victor had taken the blame instead.”

He walked out without a threat or a dramatic farewell. He didn’t need to. The silence he left behind was heavier than any speech.

The executive floor had frozen. Assistants stopped typing. A young analyst nearly dropped his tablet. No one made eye contact as Erick walked past them toward the elevator.

In the lobby, Clara straightened up the moment she saw him. Her hands trembled.

Erick walked past her without a word. Only after the revolving doors closed behind him did she finally breathe.

***

Outside, the Manhattan air was cold. Ivan waited by a black sedan and opened the door.

“Done already?” Ivan asked as they pulled into traffic. “I figured there’d be at least one body.”

“Not today.”

Ivan grinned. “I’ll take that as progress.”

As they crawled through Midtown traffic, Erick looked out the window. “Victor’s been treating Gerard Dominion like his personal bank.”

“How much?” Ivan asked.

“Two hundred million.”

Ivan whistled. “That’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”

“Probably both,” Erick said. “Freeze every secondary account tied to Laurent Corp. Delay shipments. Pressure their lenders.”

“I’ll make it invisible,” Ivan promised.

After a minute, Ivan spoke again. “Horizon Lounge tonight. Martin Clarke reserved the penthouse. He hasn’t visited alone once this month.”

Erick’s expression didn’t change.

Outside, Manhattan moved as usual. People hurried to intersections and taxis honked. None of them knew that Gerard Dominion had just changed hands again.

“So what’s the plan?” Ivan asked.

Erick watched the skyline. “Let them celebrate. They think tonight is just another party.”

A faint smile touched his face. “It’s actually their last peaceful evening.”