Billionaire's Game

The Sharks at the Table

“Because that’s where the ghosts are,” Amelia had said.

But ghosts didn’t rattle chains anymore. They hacked emails. They bought silence. They wore suits that cost more than most people’s rent.

By morning, those ghosts still whispered in her ears.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” Sarah asked, falling into step beside her as they approached the boardroom.

Amelia didn’t answer. She was already slipping into armor—voice calm, expression unreadable.

Sarah tried again. “You sure you want to do this today?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Amelia replied. “The board smells blood. If I don’t move first, they will.”

Sarah glanced at the folder in Amelia’s hand. “And Harper?”

“He gets five minutes. If he screws it up, he’s done.”

Sarah opened the door for her. “Then God help him.”

The boardroom was already half full—coffee cups clinking, muted conversations buzzing like static. Amelia stepped in, head high, heels slicing the silence.

Chairman Reginald Lawrence adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Turner. We’re here. Care to explain the urgency?”

Amelia didn’t rise yet. She didn’t need to.

“Revenue’s dropped another eleven percent,” she said. “The last quarter’s forecast was optimistic—delusional, even. We’re burning cash and acting like it’s a passing storm.”

“Every company hits turbulence,” muttered Gerald Hunt, the CFO, leaning back in his seat. “It’s a cycle.”

“And cycles break when you ignore the trend line,” Amelia snapped. “We’re not dipping—we’re diving.”

“Are you proposing another round of cuts?” asked Marjorie Lin, eyes sharp above her tablet. “Because we’re already bleeding talent.”

“No,” Amelia said coolly. “I’m proposing something bolder.”

Nathan Harper strolled in five minutes late.

Of course he did.

No apologies. No awkward glances. Just that effortless stride and a folder in hand like he’d been running the company since birth.

“Good morning,” he said, sliding into the seat beside Amelia with a smirk that said your house, my rules.

Amelia didn’t blink.

Let’s see what kind of show you’re putting on today, Harper.

Chairman Reginald Lawrence, white-haired and grumpy as ever, adjusted his spectacles. “Miss Turner. You called this emergency session. We’re listening.”

Amelia stood. Calm. Measured. She didn’t need to shout to own the room.

“Turner Enterprises is bleeding. You all know it. We’ve slashed marketing, cut bonuses, and still, revenue projections are diving. I’ve brought in a specialist. He has a solution—and it’s time we stop pretending we can save the company with nostalgia.”

Some board members frowned. Others whispered.

Reginald sniffed. “And this... specialist... comes with what credentials?”

Nathan rose, placing his folder neatly in front of the old man.

“No titles, no letters after my name,” he said. “But if you flip to page three, you’ll find a turnaround plan that will keep you in profit within six quarters.”

There was a pause and Amelia watched like a hawk as they skimmed his plan.

Nathan leaned forward. “I know the pressure you’re under—investment firms pulling out, media leaks, employee morale crumbling. But what if I told you we could turn your outdated logistics arm into a profit machine?”

He tapped the chart. “Automation. AI integration. Partner with European freight startups. We cut cost and triple capacity.”

He pointed to another page. “Digital wing? Rebrand it. Relaunch Turner X as a luxury lifestyle brand, not a corporate dinosaur.”

A younger board member—Tamara Ellis, one of the few Amelia trusted—nodded slowly. “This is… actually viable.”

But Reginald narrowed his eyes. “And who pays for all this fancy reinvention? We’re not a piggy bank.”

Nathan smiled. “We don’t pay. We acquire. There’s a boutique fintech company on the verge of bankruptcy—Everline. We buy them out for cents, and use their tech to power the entire digital shift.”

Amelia nearly choked.

Everline?

That was a name from her own secret acquisition list. A plan she hadn’t even told Sarah about.

How the hell did he know that?

She glanced at him sharply, but his face remained calm. Too calm.

The meeting went on for another hour. Questions, doubts, applause. Nathan fielded them like a pro, dancing between charm and precision.

When it ended, Reginald adjusted his tie. “We’ll reconvene next week to vote.”

“No,” Amelia said, standing. “We vote now. Every minute we wait, we lose leverage.”