The World's Most Useless Billionaire

Chapter 6: Corporate Warfare

Chapter 6: Corporate Warfare

The fluorescent glow of the office monitors felt like needles against Leon’s tired eyes. He didn’t wake up so much as drift back into a reality that was colder than his dream. Clara was still sitting at the desk, her brow furrowed, the blue light of the terminal casting deep shadows across her face.

"You’re back," she murmured, not looking away from the scrolling data. "The Central Oversight Board has been quiet for three hours, which is the most terrifying thing that’s happened all night."

Leon rubbed his face, the stubble on his chin feeling like sandpaper. "Quiet is never good when you’re dealing with ghosts. What’s Thorne doing?"

Clara finally turned, her shoulders sagging. "He’s moving fast. He’s filed for a hostile takeover of the urban infrastructure firm you backed. If he gets a majority stake by the board meeting tomorrow morning, he’ll liquidate the equipment, scrap the hospital contracts, and leave you with nothing but a worthless shell company."

"He’s trying to cut the legs out from under me," Leon said, leaning against the doorframe. "He knows the money is tied to my signature. If the company disappears, the leverage disappears."

"He’s doing more than that," Clara sighed, pushing the laptop toward him. "Look at the acquisition strategy. He’s offering a premium to every single shareholder. It’s a classic squeeze. If they sell, they get rich; if they don’t, he’ll sue them into oblivion. He’s betting that the employees would rather have a fat check than save a project they barely understand."

Leon walked over, looking at the aggressive purchase orders. "He’s betting on greed. It’s always his go-to play."

"And it usually works," she said, her voice dropping. "We can’t just outbid him. If we pump more capital into the shares, we’re just handing the board more evidence of a market anomaly. They want us to inflate the stock so they can flag the account for fraud."

Leon stared at the numbers, his pulse starting to sync with the flickering cursor. "We don't need to outbid him. We need to make the stock worthless to him."

"How?" Clara asked, skeptical. "He’s already bought up a chunk of the floating shares."

"Does he own the employees?" Leon asked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "The infrastructure firm isn't just machines and contracts, Clara. It’s a team of three hundred engineers and field workers who were promised a project that would actually change the city. They didn't sign up to be sold to a liquidator."

"Leon, you’re talking about a worker uprising. That’s not how corporate law works."

"It is if they own the company," Leon said, pulling up the bylaws of the firm. "Look at this. The founding charter has a clause that hasn't been touched in ten years. 'In the event of a hostile change in ownership, the employees maintain a collective veto power if they hold at least thirty percent of the voting shares.'"

Clara blinked, her eyes scanning the document. "They don't hold thirty percent. They hold maybe five."

"Then we give them the rest," Leon whispered.

"You want to give your shares to the staff?" Clara asked, her jaw dropping. "That’s millions of dollars in equity. You’d be walking away from the control entirely."

"I don't need the control," Leon said, looking at her. "I need the project to survive. If they own it, Thorne can’t buy it without their consent. And he can’t buy the consent of three hundred people who hate him."

"They might sell anyway, Leon. Everyone has a price."

"Then we make the price something they can't afford to lose," he replied. "We go to them. We tell them exactly what Thorne is planning. We tell them that if they vote to stay, we’ll restructure the company as a cooperative. They become the owners. They set the pace."

Clara stood up, walking to the window to look out at the city. "It’s a massive risk. If this leaks, the press will call it a socialist stunt. It’ll destroy your credibility with the donor class."

"Good," Leon said. "I’m tired of the donor class. Let’s talk to the people who actually build things."

*

The firm’s headquarters was a mess of gray cubicles and half-finished blueprints. By the time they arrived, the news of the takeover had already begun to circulate, the air thick with nervous energy and the low hum of rumors.

Leon stood in the center of the main floor, his suit jacket off, his sleeves rolled up. A crowd of engineers and workers had gathered around, their faces a mix of confusion and suspicion.

"I know why you’re nervous," Leon said, his voice echoing in the vast, sterile space. "Thorne is knocking on the door. He’s offering a check that looks a lot bigger than your current paycheck. And I’m sure he’s told you that this project is a sinking ship."

A man in a hard hat stepped forward. "Why shouldn't we take the money, kid? You’re the one who funded this whole thing on a ‘glitch.’ How do we know you won't vanish tomorrow?"

"Because if I vanish, you’re still here," Leon said, meeting his gaze. "I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourselves. If you sell to Thorne, this building is gone in a week. The hospital wing? That’s gone, too. You’ll be out of a job, and the city loses the only project that actually gives a damn about its future."

"And what’s the alternative?" a woman asked from the back. "We hold onto the shares and wait for you to go bankrupt?"

"No," Leon said, stepping toward them. "You hold onto the shares, and you become the owners. I’m signing over my majority position to the employee union. You vote on the leadership. You vote on the contracts. You take the profit that would have gone to an investor and put it back into your tools, your bonuses, and your lives."

A murmur went through the crowd. 

"Is this for real?" the man in the hard hat asked, looking at Clara.

Clara stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "The legal papers are already drafted. We just need the board to ratify the transfer. If you vote to reject Thorne’s offer, this company belongs to you by the end of the day."

"That’s a hell of a gamble," the woman said, though she was already looking at her coworkers. "What’s the catch?"

"The catch is that you have to work for it," Leon said. "No more waiting for someone else to make the decisions. You’re in the driver’s seat now."

As the room buzzed with the realization of what was being offered, the heavy glass doors of the office burst open. A group of security guards, followed by a pack of lawyers in identical navy suits, marched in.

"Leon Mahendra!" a man in the lead shouted, holding up a stack of papers. "We have a court order for your immediate removal from the premises. This firm is currently in a pre-acquisition audit, and you are trespassing."

"We’re not trespassing," Clara shouted, stepping between them. "This is a private meeting of the stakeholders."

"The stakeholders have been notified of the buyout," the lawyer sneered. "And they’ve been warned that any attempt to dilute their equity will result in personal lawsuits against every single person in this room."

The crowd shifted, the uncertainty returning in a wave. 

"Don't listen to them!" Leon yelled, turning back to the workers. "They’re trying to scare you because they know you have the power to stop them! If you hold, they lose!"

"Get him out of here," the lawyer commanded, gesturing to the guards.

The guards rushed forward, shoving their way through the workers. One of them caught Leon by the shoulder, spinning him around. 

"You’re done, kid," the guard grunted, pulling his arm back and throwing a heavy, calculated punch into Leon’s ribs.

Leon gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a sudden, sharp burst. He collapsed to his knees, his vision blurring. He felt the cold floor against his palms. 

"Leon!" Clara screamed, rushing toward him, but she was intercepted by the lawyers.

"The meeting is adjourned," the lead lawyer announced, his voice booming over the chaos. "Anyone who stays will be considered an accomplice to fraud."

Leon groaned, clutching his side, his breath coming in ragged, painful gulps. Through the haze of pain, he saw the employees standing their ground. The man in the hard hat took a step forward, blocking the guard who had hit Leon.

"We don't take orders from you," the man said, his voice steady. "We’re voting. Now."

"You’re making a mistake," the lawyer warned, his face turning red with rage.

"We’re making a choice," the woman added, stepping up to the desk where the voting tablets were kept.

Leon looked up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He felt the familiar hum of the glitch deep in his chest, a strange, electric warmth that ignored the pain in his ribs. He watched as the employees grabbed the tablets, their fingers moving with a determination he hadn't expected.

They weren't voting for money. They were voting for the chance to be more than just a line on a ledger.

"It’s done," Clara whispered, kneeling beside him, her hand pressed against his shoulder. "They blocked the takeover. You won, Leon."

Leon smiled, the taste of copper in his mouth, as he looked at the board in the center of the room. The numbers were flipping, shifting from red to green, the majority stake firmly in the hands of the workers.

"I didn't win," Leon whispered, his vision fading as the office lights seemed to swirl into a single, bright point. "We just balanced the books."

As the guards were forced to retreat, beaten by the sheer number of people standing between them and the desks, Leon let his head fall back against the cold tile. He felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket, a steady, rhythmic pulsing. He didn't need to

look at it to know the game was still running. Thorne was losing, but the system had only just begun to react.