Blackstone Code-Chapter 658: A Choice Between Two

Mr. Wadrick returned home just after lunch. His wife was surprised. “Don’t you have work this afternoon?”

Taking off his coat, Mr. Wadrick smiled. “Lynch is coming over. I have some things to discuss with him…” He paused. “Where’s Severella?”

Since Lynch had politely turned Severella down last time, she’d been downcast for quite a while. As her father, Mr. Wadrick actually felt relieved.

Heartbreak plays a vital role in personal growth. Beyond the pain, it brings maturity—emotional growth.

He had overlooked that before. But now, someone had helped his daughter experience that growth—without hurting her too deeply. He was quite pleased.

Since being rejected by Lynch, Severella had thrown herself into writing and building her personal brand.

That was a good thing. At least she now understood the value of taking initiative for her future, instead of passively waiting. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

When considering such matters, Mr. Wadrick never cared about what ordinary people thought. Nor did he think it was excessive that his daughter, in her twenties, had already published a book and launched her own brand. He thought it was perfectly normal. After all, it proved just how good his genes were.

Still, avoiding a meeting between Severella and Lynch was ideal—hence the question.

“She’s meeting with a few designers at the company today to discuss the fall launch.” Even though it was only the start of summer, the fashion world was already obsessing over autumn and winter colors and trends.

In about a month—around June—Bentley would be hosting the annual Midsummer Fashion Week. No brand could afford to miss it.

Mr. Wadrick nodded in satisfaction, kissed his wife on the cheek, and headed upstairs to work.

Even at home, he had plenty of matters to handle—by phone.

Phone-based work had become quite trendy lately, apparently thanks to a new telephone switchboard patent that drastically reduced the need for human operators. This made holding conference calls possible anytime, anywhere.

Its immediacy made it wildly popular from the moment it launched. Of course, it was expensive, but those who needed it could afford it.

After reviewing several documents, Mr. Wadrick took a nap. He always got up early, so a midday rest was necessary to maintain his energy.

Presidents across Eminence and the Federation were known for their diligence. A few years ago, when the Federation’s economy was still strong, a TV network aired a documentary following the weekly lives of seven CEOs.

The documentary was a massive hit. People were fascinated by the wealthy and the lives of the elite. The show satisfied that curiosity.

They discovered all seven CEOs lived highly disciplined lives. The earliest rose at 5 a.m., the latest by 6 a.m.—and then worked non-stop all day.

They didn’t attend wild parties. Rarely even social events. Their diets were light—mostly vegetables and greens. And they exercised at least thirty minutes every morning and evening.

Some viewers found their lives dull, like monks. Others admired them—for being so rich and powerful, yet indifferent to pleasure.

One quote from the documentary became hugely popular:

Even people richer than you are working harder than you. So why are you still lying in bed?

Of course, the production team had conveniently left out their two-hour naps and post-dinner breaks. People only saw the grind…

Around 2 p.m., Lynch arrived.

Mr. Wadrick, freshly awake, quickly changed clothes. This routine was nothing new to him—he even had a nap room at his corporate office.

To his knowledge, nearly all CEOs and executives of his level had similar rest spaces.

After brief pleasantries, Lynch and Mr. Wadrick entered the study. Without asking, Wadrick made Lynch a cup of coffee, then sat down and, somewhat unexpectedly, asked:

“Are you here to surrender?”

His eyes held a mix of scrutiny, amusement, resignation—and a faint glimmer of hope he didn’t even realize himself.

His consortium’s decision had left him powerless. The contracts he signed, his position—they were discarded at will. Even if compensation was required for breach of contract, it didn’t matter.

He never showed dissatisfaction. He always obeyed the board’s decisions. On the surface, he was the ideal executive—well-suited for his job and the capital game.

But only he knew he had a temper.

Everyone does—even gods. There’s no such thing as someone without a temper. It’s just that showing it can be childish. And since it wouldn’t change anything, why bother?

In his eyes, Lynch was probably here to surrender. He knew the board had contacted the tax bureau to flag Lynch’s businesses. They were likely already auditing him.

Everyone fears audits—even Mr. Wadrick. Not because they’re guilty, but because the laws are complex. Even if everything was legal in Eminence, that might not be true in other states. And if capital conflict intensified, opponents could even push Congress to initiate investigations.

What used to be legal could suddenly become illegal. That’s the power of capital.

You say you’re innocent—but does it matter?

In the end, the law decides. And behind the law stand countless capitalists.

Terrifying.

Lynch paused as he lifted his coffee, then chuckled. “So, do you want me to surrender? Or declare war?”

Mr. Wadrick stirred his coffee, seemingly absorbed in the swirling liquid. “I don’t know. Either option is a bad one for you.”

His gaze slowly lifted from the cup to Lynch’s face. “If you’re here to surrender, it shows you’re not invincible. Some people will start coveting your assets.”

“If you’re here to declare war, honestly, I don’t think you have a chance.”

“Most people don’t really understand the nature of a consortium. They think it’s just a big company. But it’s more than that.”

“If you go to war with the board, your first obstacle will be production. Certain goods will become unavailable. Distributors will stop selling your products.”

“Then comes the market assault. They’ll quickly launch competing businesses identical to yours.”

“If you sell cups, they’ll start their own cup company—cheaper, with wider distribution.”

“Even your business in Nagaryll—eventually, you won’t be able to buy anything from suppliers tied to our group. No essential materials, no talent. Even some shipping companies will refuse to transport for you.”

“I’m sure you realize it too—neither choice is ideal.”

After speaking, he took a sip of coffee, then casually dropped a sugar cube into the cup and stirred it again.

Federals liked adding milk and sugar to their coffee—some even cocoa powder. There was a joke: a group of foreigners asked how to break into the Federation’s food and beverage market. Their sales rep said, Just give the customers enough sugar packets.

Lynch savored the coffee’s bitterness and depth. He pursed his lips. “I’m here to declare war—and to seek allies.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?” Wadrick burst out laughing. “You’re hilarious. Do you really think you can talk me into going against the consortium behind me?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Impossible, Lynch. We’re on good terms, yes, but that’s just not going to happen.”

“Even if I sided with you, we still wouldn’t win.”

Lynch replied firmly, “We can win.”

“How?” Wadrick’s expression grew serious. He laid out the facts. “Soren has signed a long-term contract with the consortium worth six hundred million—not a one-time payment. They’ve also agreed to help our products gain traction in Gephra’s domestic market.”

“We reached out through certain channels to Gephra’s Minister of Finance. He confirmed Soren’s statements. If our products perform well in the Amellian region, we’ll receive a domestic order from Gephra. They’re even willing to list us as a key strategic partner.”

“That’s a big deal. It means we’re about to break into the international market. Gephra’s past dominance makes people blindly follow their choices. This could easily turn into a multi-billion—or even tens of billions—level project.”

“I might be out of line saying this, but with that much profit, it’s more than enough to push the consortium into taking more extreme measures.”

Mr. Wadrick saw the situation clearly—money moves people. And he was tempted too. If production kept up, just the Amellian region alone could yield at least a hundred million in profit. His cut would be several million—and that’s conservative.

And the profit isn’t limited to that figure.

There’s margin in transport, installation fees, engineer deployment, and post-sale maintenance. All of that is money.

Money that keeps generating more money. Anyone who blocks the consortium from taking this deal becomes their mortal enemy.

Not even the President could stand in the way.