Chapter 914: Fallout

“Meeting?”

A call came into Lynch’s office at Blackstone Capital, informing him that EveryMoment was holding a shareholders’ meeting and asking if he could attend.

Normally, such meetings require at least a week’s notice to give shareholders time to prepare—after all, not everyone resides in the same city.

Clearly, this was an emergency meeting.

“Are you going?” Vera gently stroked Lynch’s hair like he was a little boy, her tone soft.

Just moments ago, Lynch had actually fallen asleep in her arms. She had never seen him like that before.

Like a child—his clean face free of that confident, radiant smile that inspired everyone, free of the pressure that made people unable to meet his gaze. All that was gone, leaving only purity.

Pure and unburdened, without a trace of filth. He simply held her and quickly drifted off to sleep.

It was a display of trust, though Vera might not have realized it herself. But Lynch’s peaceful slumber gave off an indescribable sense of vulnerability.

It wasn’t true weakness—but in that moment, regardless of his accomplishments or power, he seemed fragile.

Until the phone interrupted them. Vera wanted nothing more than to rip out the cord and let Lynch sleep a little longer.

She knew how much energy young men had, and how much rest they needed. She had once been there herself.

In her early twenties, she had never felt so easily tired, so quick to fall asleep. A quiet early spring afternoon, sitting behind a glass window, flipping through a fashion magazine—before she knew it, her eyes would close and she’d be asleep.

But yes, their energy had been boundless.

Her palm pressed against Lynch’s forehead, smoothing back his hair. “You can rest a bit longer. Without you, the meeting won’t go anywhere.”

Lynch felt amazing. He hadn’t realized he’d actually fallen asleep. He just took a deep breath, then felt this overwhelming sense of safety—and a thought came to mind:

Just rest for a while. Just close your eyes.

And then he was asleep.

“Respect others, and they’ll respect you,” Lynch said with a smile. “Alright, enough with the pretty talk. If you don’t want to be cornered by words, don’t give people the chance.”

“Hopefully it’s not too late,” he added, burying his face briefly against Vera’s chest before sitting up.

Vera stepped aside, helping him to his feet and smoothing out his clothes.

After napping with her, his clothes were wrinkled—not a great look.

Fortunately, Lynch had proven that money spent wisely was worth it. These garments used the latest textile technology—wrinkles could be smoothed out and would quickly return to a neat, presentable state.

Of course, they weren’t cheap—ranging from tens of thousands to over a hundred thousand per set, enough to buy several properties in commercial areas of many cities.

Which is why the average person didn’t need to know about such clothes—even if they did, they couldn’t afford them. And by the time they could, they’d already be wearing them.

Just like they didn’t care about the fabric on their current clothes—and probably never would.

Lynch soon left the Blackstone Capital building and headed to EveryMoment’s headquarters. As soon as he arrived, he noticed a fleet of cars parked outside.

Clearly, several shareholders had been summoned. The timing was well chosen.

With two companies announcing hostile takeover bids for EveryMoment, nearly all shareholders had come to Eminence to wait for their chance.

Some were looking to cash out at a favorable price. Others wanted a closer look at the situation. In any case, most chose to stay close.

If the takeover succeeded, the company would be temporarily delisted for restructuring before reapplying to go public. This directly impacted shareholders’ interests—no one would leave at such a critical moment.

“Mr. Lynch, please follow me.”

Someone greeted him the moment he stepped out of the car. EveryMoment was known for its service.

Some even described it as service without limits—they would do anything for their clients.

Of course, clients here referred to those who spent at least a couple million annually on personalized services. Customers who only bought the cheapest, lowest-grade items weren’t even in consideration.

Their limitless service left a strong impression on the federation’s wealthiest, turning the company into a legend.

But now, that legend seemed to be teetering on the edge.

Escorted by company staff, Lynch entered the conference room. The moment the door opened, the previously noisy room fell silent, only for hushed whispers to follow quickly.

“You’re Mr. Lynch?” a man in his thirties approached, extending his hand.

Lynch looked at him—he had no idea who this man was, and no one had told him.

The man then seemed to realize he needed to introduce himself. This wasn’t Marilo—people here didn’t just know who you were. “I’m Sanchez. You can call me Sanchez.”

Lynch shook his hand, immediately noticing the scars and calluses—rough and coarse to the touch.

“Mr. Sanchez, hello. I’m Lynch.”

Sanchez gave a rare smile. “I know you—Mr. Billionaire.”

Lynch’s most famous nickname around the world was Mr. Billionaire. No matter how weak the Valier was at the time, that was still a hundred billion.

Even just the weight of the paper bills made the sum staggering—something most people could never imagine holding.

Everyone knew the Federation had the youngest billionaire in the world. To have a net worth of at least a hundred billion at such a young age was shocking.

The bigger the name, the wider it spread—and the bigger it got.

“Hope those tabloid reporters didn’t get too wild with their stories,” Lynch quipped, shaking off the handshake. A little self-deprecating humor always went over well.

Sanchez smiled and gestured for him to sit. “Please, have a seat. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Lynch smiled and nodded to the other shareholders. “Traffic was a mess. Eminence’s roads are a disaster—I ought to write a complaint to the transportation bureau for their inaction.”

That one sentence explained his late arrival, though no one took it seriously.

Sitting directly across from Lynch was the CEO of EveryMoment. Shareholder meetings typically seated participants based on shareholding percentages. Lynch, owning 20%, was a major shareholder—second only to the CEO himself.

Below them were minor shareholders. The fifth seat belonged to a professional manager from Prosperity Bank.

Once a project was secured, it would be handed over to a management team within the bank to oversee its operations. Lynch identified the affiliation from the badge on the manager’s chest.

After Lynch settled in, Sanchez remained standing, resting his hands lightly on the table.

Lynch appreciated that stance—aggressive, dominant. It made people uneasy.

At the far end of the table, even the minor shareholders shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Despite the distance, the tension was palpable.

“I’m here on behalf of my father to straighten out this mess. We’ve run into some serious trouble—but most of it has been handled.”

“What we’re dealing with now are just a few malicious jackals—and we have ways to deal with them.”

“If you’ve heard the news, you’ll know we’re organizing a new Spring Showcase. This one will gather the world’s wealthiest elite—it will be the first of its kind in history.”

“Royal families from smaller nations will attend. Even the Gephra Empire will be sending senior royal representatives.”

That revelation caused visible surprise among many shareholders.

After all, the man behind EveryMoment was, at his core, just a warlord—not an official head of state. What gave him the power to summon such global figures, especially right after a scandal?

Yet Sanchez’s calm and convincing tone left little room for doubt. Maybe they really had pulled it off.

Watching the shifting expressions, Sanchez looked pleased. Without betraying any emotion, he shot a glance at his silent uncle before returning his focus to the meeting.

“Once the showcase is a success, the world will witness the reach of EveryMoment—global influence. When that happens, our stock price will soar.”

“If anyone here is considering selling their shares to those greedy jackals, I advise you to wait.”

“Wait until our market cap returns to its peak—or even surpasses it. Then think about selling.”

“You’ll gain far more than you would now.”

“It won’t take long. You’ll see the results soon!”

He paused, giving the room time to digest what he’d said. Again, he glanced sideways at his silent uncle.

After about five minutes, he cleared his throat. “Additionally, due to actions taken during his tenure as CEO that seriously harmed the interests of the company, we’ve decided to relieve my uncle of his position as CEO…”

The previously silent CEO froze, then suddenly slammed the table and stood up. “This is impossible! Your decision wasn’t approved by the shareholders—it’s illegal and invalid!”