Chapter Three
722 Words
The New Boss
Walking down the hallway to her father’s office felt like an eternity. Different thoughts flooded her mind.
Those thoughts made her walk faster, desperate to find anything that could nullify Damien’s ownership rights. Anything could work—a clause, a loophole, a breach of contract, just anything that could work in her favour.
The door clicked shut behind her.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
The office looked exactly as she remembered it. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the neatly arranged bookshelves, the faint scent of old books and files, and the sweet fragrance from the scented candles on the shelves.
A sharp ache settled in her chest, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe.
No. She wasn’t here to mourn.
She finally moved towards the desk, and her eyes drifted to the polished mahogany nameplate resting at the edge.
HARRISON WALKER
CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER
She stared at it, memories threatening to surface—her father sitting behind the desk, promising that one day she would lead the company beside him.
Even though she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the company at first and had been far more interested in art, her father’s persistent persuasion had slowly drawn her into the business world. She had eventually begun taking an interest in the company, though she never completely gave up her love for art.
The thought twisted painfully inside her.
She had done all this because she wanted to make her father happy. Being an only child came with responsibilities, but now it felt like all of her father’s dreams were slipping away just when they had finally been within reach.
Blinking rapidly, she tore her gaze away.
She opened the first drawer and began searching through the files with renewed determination.
A frantic two-hour search yielded nothing useful except a few business proposals and records of dealings with DC Corporation. There was nothing that could challenge Damien’s claim to Walker Group.
Frustration began to creep in.
Finally deciding to go home and search her father’s home office instead, she gathered every document that had Damien’s company name on it and placed them into a folder.
Just as she was about to leave, a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and her father’s former secretary stepped inside carrying a thick brown file.
“Miss Walker, this was delivered from the corporate records department. They said you requested all shareholder documentation.”
Her eyes immediately narrowed.
“Thank you.”
The secretary placed the file on the desk and quietly left.
The moment the door closed, she sat down and opened it.
Inside were shareholder records, acquisition reports, and transfer agreements.
Her pulse quickened as she flipped through the pages.
Then she found it.
The shareholder distribution report.
Her eyes scanned the figures.
Harrison Walker — 45%
Her father’s shares.
The shares she had inherited.
She continued reading.
Damien Cross — 55%
Her stomach dropped.
Beneath it was a detailed breakdown of the acquisitions.
Daniel Reeves — 15% transferred
Victoria Holdings — 12% transferred
Benjamin Carter — 10% transferred
Ethan Pierce — 8% transferred
Harper Investments — 10% transferred
Total acquired: 55%
She stared at the page.
Then read it again.
And again.
There was no mistake.
Damien hadn’t stolen the company.
He had legally purchased enough shares from the other shareholders to become the majority owner.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
All this time she had been searching for proof that his claim was invalid.
Instead, she had found proof that it wasn’t.
Her grip tightened around the papers.
Those people had worked with her father for years. Some of them had attended company dinners and celebrated milestones with their family. Yet they had sold their shares without a second thought.
She was about to close the file when something slipped from between the pages and landed on the desk.
A photograph.
Her brows furrowed.
Slowly, she picked it up.
The colour had faded slightly with age, but the faces were unmistakable.
Her father.
And Damien Cross.
Standing side by side.
Smiling.
The blood drained from her face.
“What…?”
Her fingers tightened around the photograph.
Because if her father had known Damien before his death…
Then everything she believed about the takeover might have been a lie.
- Writer
