Chapter 22 - The Evening Accord
As evening descended, the estate transitioned into its nocturnal rhythm. The automated security grid hummed to life, projecting invisible laser barriers across the perimeter while biometric scanners at the gates verified the credentials of incoming delivery vehicles.
Inside the private dining room, a table was set for two. There were no liveried servants standing awkwardly by the corners, no forced etiquette or tense political conversations designed to test alliances. Just fine china, crystal wine glasses catching the warm glow of a brass chandelier, and the quiet comfort of each other's company.
We sat across from one another, sharing a quiet meal of roasted duck and root vegetables prepared by the estate's private chef—a culinary artist who had been vetted through three layers of security and paid a retainer large enough to ensure absolute discretion.
"The board meeting in New York is scheduled for Thursday," Adrian said, cutting a piece of meat with effortless precision. "The minority shareholders are going to try and push for a higher dividend payout from the shipping subsidiaries."
"Let them try," I replied, taking a sip of the deep, velvety Cabernet Sauvignon. "Our liquidity reserves are triple what they require under the bylaws. If they push too hard, invoke clause fourteen of the shareholder agreement and buy out their voting shares at market value. We don't need minority partners whining about quarterly dividends when we're restructuring global logistics chains."
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Adrian raised his glass in a silent, mocking toast, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Consider it done. By Friday morning, Maeve Holdings will hold one hundred percent voting control across all domestic and international subsidiaries."
"Good," I smiled. "Total consolidation. No loose ends."
