The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession

Called Out

CHAPTER 2

Madison’s POV

The meeting hall was cold and quiet, except for the sound of chairs moving and papers shuffling. I sat down with my boss and two colleagues, trying to keep my head low. The air was heavy, and I could almost hear my own heartbeat.

Dalton Hale sat at the far end of the long table. His dark suit was sharp, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak at first. He only looked around the room, his eyes scanning each person like he was weighing their worth.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm.

“Let’s get straight to business.”

Everyone sat straighter. Even my boss, a man who never seemed nervous, kept adjusting his tie. Dalton began talking about numbers, deals, and deadlines. His words carried authority, leaving no space for questions.

My boss, Mr. Carter, cleared his throat. “Mr. Hale, the proposed acquisition of the Riverside property it’s… ambitious. The contracts are complex. There are overlapping claims that could take months to settle in court.”

Dalton’s eyes didn’t flicker. “Months I don’t have.”

Silence followed. Then Dalton leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “I need guarantees. Your firm is being brought in for one purpose to cut through the noise. I want a clear path to ownership, free from unnecessary delays.”

My colleague, Anna, shifted nervously beside me. “The issue is that the current owners are fighting each other. The family hasn’t agreed on division of assets. Until that is resolved, no contract is fully binding.”

Dalton’s voice stayed even, but it carried a weight that pressed down on the room.

“Then make it binding. Find the loopholes. Push the settlement through. I don’t care how messy it looks now I care about results.”

Mr. Carter gave a small, polite smile, though his knuckles tightened around his pen. “We understand, Mr. Hale. But rushing it may open you to litigation later. We must consider the risks.”

Dalton’s gaze cut to him. “I don’t pay for hesitation, Mr. Carter. I pay for solutions.”

My boss swallowed, his false smile stiffening.

Dalton reached for a document in front of him, sliding it across the table with deliberate precision. “This,” he said, tapping the paper, “is the agreement I expect to hold in three weeks. Your firm will ensure it does.”

I lowered my eyes, writing his words down in my notebook, though my hands shook. The black ink trailed slightly where my pen trembled against the paper.

Anna leaned forward, her voice careful. “If I may, sir three weeks is extremely tight for negotiations of this scale. Even if the family reaches an internal agreement, we’d still need court approval.”

Dalton didn’t look at her. He simply said, “Then make the court approve it.”

The room froze. He spoke as though the law itself would bend if he willed it.

Mr. Carter tried again, his tone heavier now. “We’ll explore expedited measures. But to be transparent, Mr. Hale, your timeline is… nearly impossible.”

Dalton finally shifted his gaze to my boss, holding it there long enough to make the silence unbearable. “Nearly impossible,” he repeated slowly, “is not the same as impossible.”

The words hung in the air.

I kept writing, but I could feel my pulse in my ears. Every sentence he spoke made the walls feel tighter, the air thinner.

Dalton leaned back, as though satisfied the point had been made. “Now,” he said, “let’s discuss the secondary contracts.”

He gestured, and his assistant a man standing quietly at the side of the room handed over another set of documents. Thick stacks of paper slid across the table.

Mr. Carter flipped through them quickly, his brows drawing together. “These are distribution rights.”

“Correct,” Dalton said.

“Worldwide?” Anna asked, scanning the pages with wide eyes.

“Worldwide,” he confirmed, his tone clipped. “Exclusive.”

Mr. Carter shook his head faintly. “That’s… aggressive. The existing parties will fight hard against exclusivity.”

Dalton’s lips curved, not into a smile, but something close. “Then let them fight. While they waste energy, I’ll already own the ground beneath them.”

The sentence felt sharp, final, like a blade pressed against the table.

Anna shifted uncomfortably. “From a legal standpoint, exclusivity of this scope could trigger antitrust concerns.”

Dalton’s eyes flicked to her, just for a second. “Concerns don’t stop me. Lawyers are here to make sure concerns never become obstacles.”

My stomach tightened. The way he said it, it was as if we weren’t people, but tools. Tools he would use to break down every barrier in his way.

Mr. Carter tried to steer the conversation, his voice almost too bright. “Well, our firm has handled international cases before. We can navigate the antitrust angles, though it will require careful structuring.”

Dalton’s fingers drummed once on the table. Then they stilled. “Good. I want contracts drafted by Friday.”

Friday? My hand froze on the paper. That was four days away.

“Mr. Hale,” Mr. Carter began carefully, “a contract of this scale…”

Dalton cut him off. “By Friday.”

The room went silent again.

I tried to focus on my notes, but my pen pressed so hard into the page that it tore slightly through the paper.

Dalton’s gaze swept the room again, cold, calculating. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

On me.

His eyes locked with mine, and for a moment, it felt like time froze.

“You,” Dalton said, his tone sharp.

Every head turned toward me.

My pen slipped from my fingers, hitting the notebook with a faint sound.

Dalton leaned slightly forward, his eyes still fixed on me. “Tell me,” he said, “what do you think about this proposal?”

The room fell into silence. All eyes were on me. My mouth went dry.