Twelve Months To Ruin You

“You run this company like it already belongs to you.” Humphrey Brew dropped a thick file on the table, and the whole room went silent, like someone hit pause on a movie. Derrick didn’t even look up. He finished signing the page in front of him, slow on purpose, just to make Humphrey wait. “And yet you still show up to meetings I run. Funny how that works.” A couple of people near the back looked down fast, hiding smiles. Humphrey’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t a joke.” “Good thing I wasn’t joking. I was just being honest, and it happened to be funny. Like accidentally telling a really good knock-knock joke.” Someone coughed to cover a laugh. Humphrey leaned forward. “You presented a twelve-million-dollar expansion plan without board approval.” “I presented it because I’m the CEO. That’s the job. It’s right there on my business card, under my name.” “You’re a CEO with limits, Derrick.” And just like that, the easy mood disappeared. Derrick leaned back, calm on the outside, definitely not calm on the inside. Humphrey kept going. “Your father made the rule clear before he died. Until you marry, the board still has the final say.” Derrick twirled his pen once. “You bring up my father a lot, for someone you couldn’t stand.” “Your father understood responsibility.” “And you understand how to ruin a perfectly good morning. Everyone’s got a talent.” The room went quiet again, except for one assistant suddenly very busy straightening papers that were already straight as a ruler. Humphrey stood. “You act like this company is already yours. It isn’t.” “Done?” “For now.” “Great. I was running out of nice ways to insult you.” That one almost got a laugh before the room caught itself. Humphrey grabbed his tablet and stormed out, the rest of the board hurrying behind him like kids running from a thunderstorm. The second the door shut, Derrick dropped his pen on the table, hard. “I swear, one day I’m throwing that man out a window.” “Boardroom windows don’t open.” He looked up. Gerald Mensah walked in with two coffees, looking way too relaxed for someone who probably heard the whole fight. “Shame,” Derrick said, taking his cup. “There go my evening plans.” Gerald sat across from him. “You handled that badly.” “Badly? I threatened murder in front of witnesses. That takes guts.” “You said throw him out a window. That’s not murder if he survives the fall. That’s just a really mean prank.” Derrick took a sip and made a face. “Why is there sugar in this?” “Because you’re difficult enough without caffeine helping.” “Wow. Rude.” “You’ll live.” Derrick leaned back. For a moment, neither spoke. Outside the windows, the city kept moving, cars, people, noise, completely unaware that two grown men were about to plan something insane way up here. Gerald finally broke the silence. “Humphrey’s getting braver these days.” “He’s getting braver because the board still controls half my decisions.” “And they’ll keep using that.” Derrick rubbed his face, tired. “I know.” “The marriage clause is becoming a real problem.” Derrick’s eyes snapped up. “If you’re about to tell me to fall in love, I’m firing you on the spot.” That almost got a smile out of Gerald. “Marriage gives you full control again. No more board interference.” “Worse. Now you’re here to talk about my love life.” “I’m here with a solution.” Derrick pointed toward the door Humphrey had used. “My solution involves a staircase.” “You need a legal one.” “I hate legal ones.” “I know.” Gerald pulled a file from his briefcase and slid it across the table. “What’s this?” “A woman.” Derrick stared at him. “…You really could’ve said that differently. That sounded like the start of a horror movie.” “Just open it.” He did. First photo: a woman leaving an office, annoyed, keys swinging. *Anne Wheeler.* Second photo: talking to investors, all business. Third photo stopped him a little longer, she was laughing, head tipped back, the real kind of laugh, not the fake polite one people use at boring dinners. Derrick shut the file. “No.” “You haven’t even heard the plan.” “You handed me a stranger’s photo and called her a solution. I’m already nervous.” “Her father was Clement Wheeler.” Derrick went still. “The same Clement Wheeler tangled up in the scandal that destroyed your father.” The joking stopped completely. Derrick stared down at the closed file. *Wheeler.* That name brought back every bad memory, the lies, the betrayal, watching his father shrink from a strong man into someone tired and broken. Then the heart attack. Then the funeral. He shut the file harder. “You want me to marry his daughter.” “Yes.” “So I can what, smile for cameras?” “So you can finally get real revenge.” The words sat heavy. Gerald leaned forward. “You think this is only about owning the company? That family wrecked yours.” Derrick said nothing. “Marry her,” Gerald said, “and you get full control, permanently. The board loses its grip for good.” “And Anne Wheeler?” “She gets close enough to ruin.” Derrick studied him. Gerald rarely talked about anyone like this, which made it land harder. “You really hate this family.” “I watched what they did to your father.” Derrick looked out at the city instead, where everyone below was just living normal lives, completely unaware that revenge marriages were being planned over lukewarm coffee. “She built her own company,” Gerald added. “People respect her. Which means nobody would suspect the marriage isn’t real.” Derrick laughed once, no humor in it. “You’ve thought about this way too much. Like, scarily too much.” “I think about protecting this family every day.” That answer came fast. Too fast. Derrick narrowed his eyes. “You already planned this before you walked in.” Gerald didn’t flinch. “You already looked into her.” “Yes.” “You already decided she was the perfect target.” Gerald fixed his cufflink, calm as ever. “I decided she was useful.” Cold. Derrick looked at Anne’s photo again. Pretty. Sharp. Probably stubborn. Definitely dangerous, considering whose daughter she was. “You really think marrying her counts as revenge?” “I think getting close to someone is the only way to truly take them down.” Silence again. Derrick hated that it made sense. Get married, get the company back, knock Humphrey down a peg, and finally make a Wheeler pay. He sighed. “This is insane.” “The best plans usually are.” “Not comforting.” Gerald stood, smooth as always. “Even if I agree,” Derrick said, “how do we get close to Anne Wheeler?” Gerald smiled slightly. “Leave that to me.” Derrick frowned. That answer sounded way too rehearsed, like Gerald had already set the wheels turning before this conversation even started. “You already have something planned, don’t you?” Gerald walked toward the door, then paused. “Trust me, Derrick.” The door opened. “By this time next year, the company will fully belong to you.” Then he was gone, leaving Derrick alone with Anne Wheeler’s photo and one uncomfortable thought sitting heavy in his chest. Gerald Mensah hadn’t just planned a marriage. He’d planned a war.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​