The Heir’s Secret Agenda

Chapter 3: A Deal with the Devil

The boardroom was cold, a stark contrast to the tension heating up inside. Adrian sat at the head of the polished mahogany table, his presence commanding. Victor leaned back in his chair, his cocky smirk barely concealing the unease in his eyes. The other board members exchanged glances, sensing the undercurrents of animosity.

Adrian’s voice was calm, but each word was a calculated blow. “As the newest shareholder of Vale Industries, I’ve come to discuss my vision for the company. It’s time for new leadership. Fresh ideas.”

Victor scoffed, tapping his pen against the table. “You’ve been back for what—five minutes? And you think you’re qualified to lecture us about leadership?”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “I built a billion-dollar empire in five years, Victor. Remind me, what have you accomplished besides inheriting your position?”

Victor’s smirk faltered, his hand tightening around the pen. “I’ve kept this company profitable, something you failed to do when you were here.”

Adrian leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “And yet, the profit margins are shrinking. Your leadership is bleeding this company dry. Tell me, Victor, how does that happen when the economy is thriving?”

The room went silent. Victor shifted in his seat, his confidence visibly cracking. He knew Adrian was onto him, but the specifics remained a mystery.

“Well,” Victor began, his tone dismissive, “if you think you can do better, by all means, try. But don’t expect me to roll out the red carpet.”

Adrian leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t need your permission, Victor. I’m already here. And I plan to stay.”

The tension was palpable as the meeting adjourned. Victor stormed out, his expression dark, while Adrian lingered, satisfied that the first seeds of doubt had been sown.

---

Emma tightened her coat as she slipped into the dimly lit café. Her eyes darted around, searching for the person she was meeting. At a corner table, a woman with sharp features and a notebook waved her over.

“Miss Caldwell,” the journalist greeted, extending a hand. “I’m Harper Mills. You’re very brave for coming forward.”

Emma forced a smile, her hands trembling as she sat down. “I don’t feel brave,” she admitted her voice barely above a whisper. “But someone has to stop him.”

Harper leaned in, her pen poised. “You said you have evidence of financial misconduct. Can you be specific?”

Emma hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. The weight of Victor’s threats hung heavy on her. “He’s been embezzling company funds for years. Shifting money into offshore accounts. I’ve seen the transfers myself.”

Harper’s eyes lit up with determination. “If we can prove this, it could bring him down. But you’ll need to provide documentation.”

Emma nodded, her heart pounding. “I have copies. I’ll get them to you, but…” She paused, swallowing hard. “You can’t let him know it came from me. He’ll—he’ll ruin me.”

Harper placed a reassuring hand on Emma’s. “I promise, your name won’t be mentioned. But time is of the essence. The sooner we act, the better.”

Emma left the café feeling both hopeful and terrified. Every step back to the office felt like walking a tightrope, knowing one misstep could send her plunging into the abyss.

---

Later that evening, Adrian sat in his penthouse, sifting through documents Claire had gathered. His assistant perched on the arm of the couch, sipping her coffee.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, boss,” Claire said, her tone teasing but her eyes serious. “Poking the hornet’s nest with Victor.”

Adrian didn’t look up. “It’s not a game, Claire. It’s justice.”

Claire tilted her head, studying him. “And Emma? Where does she fit into this… justice of yours?”

Adrian’s hand paused mid-turn of a page. “She’s with him now. That’s all I need to know.”

“Is it?” Claire challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re not just fighting Victor. You’re fighting yourself every time you see her.”

Adrian shot her a warning look, but Claire shrugged it off. “Fine. Pretend you don’t care. But don’t let your feelings—or your pride—cloud your judgment.”

Before Adrian could respond, Claire’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and frowned. “Another anonymous tip. Looks like someone wants you to dig deeper into Victor’s activities.”

Adrian took the phone, reading the message. The sender was untraceable, but the information was damning: locations of hidden accounts, names of shell companies, and a hint of blackmail schemes Victor had used to maintain control.

“Whoever this is,” Claire mused, “they know a lot. Almost too much.”

Adrian stared at the screen, suspicion gnawing at him. “Or they’re desperate.”

---

The next morning, Adrian arrived at Vale Industries early. He intended to confront Victor with the evidence, but a commotion near Victor’s office stopped him in his tracks.

Emma emerged, her face pale, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She clutched her bag tightly, her knuckles white.

“Emma,” Adrian called, stepping into her path.

She froze, her back stiffening. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“You don’t look fine.” His voice softened, concern replacing his usual edge. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she insisted, brushing past him.

Adrian caught her arm gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Emma. Not again.”

Her lip quivered, and for a moment, he thought she might open up. But then her expression hardened, and she pulled away.

“If I told you,” she said, her voice barely audible, “it would destroy us both.”

She walked away, leaving Adrian standing in the corridor, a storm of questions brewing in his mind.