Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
The next morning, the financial district was buzzing with rumors.
I sat in my new office at Mercer Global, reviewing the Hale Enterprises portfolio. The numbers were worse than Marcus had described. Richard Hale had been shuffling money between shell companies to hide his losses.
My father walked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He was back in a tailored suit, looking every bit the ruthless titan he used to be.
“How did the meeting with your ex-fiancée go?” he asked, sitting across from me.
“She failed the test,” I said, not looking up from the tablet. “She’s in on it. They know who we are, and they are desperate.”
“Good,” my father said. “Because Richard Hale just made his move.”
He slid a glossy folder across the desk. I opened it.
Inside were photographs of me and my father from ten years ago. We were standing in front of a rundown auto shop. There were also fake police reports accusing my father of embezzling money from his old construction jobs.
“What is this garbage?” I asked, disgusted.
“Blackmail,” my father replied calmly. “Hale sent a courier this morning. He is threatening to leak these forged documents to the press. He claims it will ruin Mercer Global’s stock price by showing the founder is a common street thug.”
“No one will believe this,” I said.
“The press loves a scandal, Daniel. True or not, an investigation would delay our upcoming merger with the Tokyo tech firm. Hale knows this.”
“So what does he want?”
“He wants full debt forgiveness,” my father said, leaning back. “And he wants a ten-million-dollar 'consulting fee' to keep his mouth shut.”
I closed the folder, my blood boiling. “He insults you, tries to use me, and now he wants us to pay him?”
“That is how bottom-feeders operate,” my father said quietly. “He thinks I am still the broken man who hid from the world for twenty years.”
“What do we do?”
My father smiled. “We invite him to the Mercer Annual Gala tomorrow night. We tell him we are ready to negotiate.”
I looked at him, confused. “You want to give him a platform?”
“I want to give him a rope,” my father corrected. “I want him to stand in front of the most powerful people in this city, feeling victorious. And then, I want you to pull the lever.”
I understood. We weren't just going to ruin his company. We were going to ruin his reputation.
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“I need to prepare,” I said, standing up.
“You do,” my father agreed. “Because tomorrow night, you aren't just Daniel the accountant. You are Daniel Mercer. And it's time the world met you.”
