Inheritance ✔

Chapter 17 - Crisis Control

Laurier Ashford's POV

I didn't sleep.

By the time the first light of morning broke over the city skyline, I was already seated at the head of the war room table, hair twisted up, suit pressed, eyes bloodshot but unyielding.

All around me, screens flickered with live reports—financial analysts dissecting the Midas files, local news anchors speculating on my arrest, and online mobs ready to burn the Ashford name to ash.

The company's valuation had dropped nine percent overnight.

Another two percent by dawn.

Renzo stood against the wall, arms crossed, scanning every screen like a soldier expecting sniper fire. Iris paced in and out of the room, alternating between barking orders into her phone and fielding calls from legal.

"They want a press statement by noon," she said, slamming a fresh printout onto the table. "Something clean, humble. No denial. Just remorse."

"Remorse won't stop the bleeding," I muttered, scanning the headlines.

"It might slow the damn hemorrhage."

I looked at her. "I don't slow things down, Iris. I cut them off."

The door opened again—this time, Mateo, our head of internal systems, came rushing in with a tablet in his hands.

"You need to see this," he said, breathless. "Now."

He played the video without a word.

It was a grainy clip, timestamped just two hours ago.

Clara Navarro.

At a nondescript pier in Batangas.

Getting into a boat.

Not alone.

Renzo moved behind Mateo and squinted. "Pause it."

Mateo did.

Renzo pointed at the second man stepping into the boat. He was tall, hooded, face down—but even I felt my stomach twist.

"Enhance the side frame," Renzo said.

Mateo tried. It pixelated, but not beyond recognition.

A tattoo on the man's hand.

A distinctive black ouroboros.

"That's one of Dagon's lieutenants," Renzo confirmed. "Vance Kuroda. He only shows up when something big's about to go down."

I felt ice slide down my spine.

"Where was the boat headed?"

Mateo hesitated. "They lost it off radar just past Mindoro. No signal since."

So Clara hadn't just run.

She'd traded her betrayal for protection.

And Dagon was welcoming her with open arms.

At 11:04 a.m., I stood before a wall of cameras.

The press conference was held in the Tower's lower auditorium. Packed. Every seat taken. Every lens focused on me.

Renzo stood just off stage, watching. Ready.

I took the podium.

"My name is Laurier Ashford," I began, calm and sharp as the heels I wore. "You've all seen the reports. You've read the headlines. Some of what you've heard is true. Much of it is not. But I will not stand here and insult your intelligence with denial."

Flashbulbs clicked. Whispers murmured.

"My family built this company over three decades. And yes, some of our early dealings were not what they should have been. Some contracts were processed under a different era. Under different rules."

I paused.

Let that sink in.

"I have already turned over all relevant documents to the Securities Commission. I am cooperating fully. And moving forward, I will continue to lead this company with transparency, integrity, and—above all—accountability."

I looked directly into the nearest camera.

"And to those seeking to profit off of fear or chaos: we are not crumbling. We are restructuring. We are not falling. We are evolving."

The moment I stepped down from the podium, questions exploded from every direction.

I ignored them all.

Back upstairs, I locked myself in the office and peeled off the blazer.

My hands were trembling.

Renzo came in, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

"You held your own."

"I lied to the world," I said, collapsing into the chair.

"You told them what they needed to hear."

"What I needed to buy us time."

"Same thing."

I ran my fingers through my hair, letting it down. "This doesn't end with press statements, Renzo. Clara's gone. Dagon has Midas. And we don't know what he plans to do with it."

"We're close," he said. "One of Kuroda's shell accounts just lit up—he's been paid."

"By who?"

"That's the thing," Renzo said. "The account was linked to a board member."

I froze.

Slowly, I stood up.

"Who?"

Renzo's eyes darkened. "Gerald Mahoney."

Vice Chairman.

The same man who challenged me in the boardroom.

The same man who was first to call for my removal.

"Are you telling me he's been feeding Dagon from inside?" I asked.

"I'm saying it's looking a hell of a lot like it."

My hands clenched into fists. "I trusted him."

"He's not the first you've trusted."

"And look where that's gotten me," I snapped.

Renzo stepped closer. "Then let's do it differently this time. Let me handle Mahoney. Quietly."

I looked at him, breath shallow.

"You mean take him out?"

"I mean make him disappear from the board. From the city. From the goddamn map if we have to."

For a moment, I hesitated.

Then I nodded.

"Do it."

That night, I didn't go home.

I stayed in the Tower. My old corner office—the one with glass windows stretching toward the bay—was empty, untouched. I poured myself a drink, neat. Sat in the dark.

Renzo joined me eventually.

No words. Just quiet.

We stood together in the window's reflection. Two shadows. One empire, bleeding from the inside.

"I don't know who's left to trust," I murmured.

"You can trust me."

I looked at him.

And for once, I didn't doubt it.

But the truth lingered somewhere behind his eyes.

He was hiding something.

And whatever it was...

It was coming for us next.