CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
853 Words
Chapter Thirty-five
Monday morning at Nivida was anything but ordinary. The usual hum of conversation was replaced with tense whispers, sharp phone calls, and the hurried shuffle of feet across the marble floors. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Marcellus strode through the lobby with Christopher at his side, his jaw set, his pace brisk. Christopher’s voice was low but urgent as he handed Marcellus a folder.
“They sabotaged our shipment routes. Three containers redirected to the wrong ports, one outright stolen. Clients are already threatening to sue for breach of contract. If this isn’t contained, we’re looking at millions in losses—possibly our credibility too.”
Marcellus’s eyes narrowed, scanning the reports. “The Tristans.” It wasn’t a question, it was fact.
Christopher nodded grimly. “All signs point to them. They knew exactly where to hit.”
The elevator doors slid open, and the two men stepped out onto the executive floor. As they made their way to the boardroom, they nearly collided with Briella, who was walking in with a stack of files. She stopped short at the storm etched on their faces.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice calm but her eyes sharp.
Marcellus hesitated for half a second, but Christopher answered. “Sabotage. A direct strike at our supply chain.”
Briella’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her knuckles whitened around the files. “Of course. Them.” She lifted her chin. “Then let’s not waste time. Boardroom.”
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Inside, the tension was suffocating. The executives were already in heated debate.
“We should cancel contracts before the lawsuits bury us!” one man barked.
“Cancel?” another retorted. “That’s suicide! If we pull out, we lose credibility anyway. We should sue our suppliers for incompetence.”
Voices overlapped, frustration mounting like wildfire. Papers rustled, chairs scraped, tempers flared.
Marcellus slammed his palm against the table—not hard enough to startle, but enough to silence the room. His voice was deep, commanding.
“Enough.”
Every eye turned to him.
“We don’t panic. We don’t scatter. We hold the line.” He looked around the table, his gaze steady, unflinching. “This wasn’t incompetence. This was orchestrated. And we will respond strategically, not emotionally.”
Briella spoke up then, her tone precise, cutting through the tension. “We can’t allow them to see us falter. Contracts are legally binding. If our clients threaten lawsuits, we remind them of the clauses. Delivery delays caused by third-party interference are not on us. We enforce those terms.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Heads nodded. The fear shifted, just slightly, into resolve.
Marcellus leaned forward, his hands braced against the table. “Here’s what we do. Christopher—secure new suppliers immediately. I want backups in motion before the day ends. Legal team—draft countermeasures. Any client that pushes too hard, we push back harder. PR—prepare a statement. Calm, professional, but firm. We don’t beg. We don’t bend.”
“And if the Tristans escalate?” a board member asked cautiously.
Marcellus’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll escalate smarter.”
Briella’s eyes flicked to him, and for a brief moment, the boardroom faded. She saw the boy she once knew—the one who had always stood steady when storms hit. And now, he was standing with her.
The meeting stretched on for another hour, every detail dissected, every move planned. By the time they adjourned, the executives filed out with renewed purpose. The crisis wasn’t over, but Nivida was not crumbling.
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When the room finally emptied, Briella remained behind, her hand resting lightly on the back of her chair. She turned to Marcellus.
“This is them again, isn’t it?”
He met her eyes, silent for a long beat. Then he exhaled. “Yes. Jennifer. Edward. Kendrick. They won’t stop.”
Her throat tightened, but her voice was steady. “Then neither will I.”
Marcellus studied her for a moment, then stepped closer. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone anymore, Briella. Not while I’m here.”
She gave a small, defiant smile. “Good. Because I don’t plan on breaking.”
His lips curved faintly, a rare softness in his features. “That’s what I like to hear.”
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Across town, in the Tristan mansion, the family gathered in their gilded living room. Jennifer paced, her voice sharp.
“They survived it. Already putting measures in place. They didn’t even flinch.”
Edward sat with his hands steepled, his expression calm, almost amused. “They flinched. Just not enough for the world to see. Which means next time, we don’t just hit their supply chain. We strike deeper.”
Kendrick leaned against the window frame, his eyes glinting. “And when we do… Briella won’t see it coming.”
Jennifer’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Let her enjoy her little victories. They’ll make her fall that much harder.”
The room fell silent, thick with unspoken intent.
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✨ End of Chapter Thirty-Five ✨
- Writer
