I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 171: Loss

Before a live global audience, Desmond Blackwell's lawyer had declared their intent: Blackwell Investments — one of the last great private financial empires — would be pushed toward a public offering.

The words struck the room like a hammer.

Everlyn's lips pressed into a tight line. Beside her, Alexander's face, normally carved from stone, seemed to grow even harder, his black eyes narrowing at the screen.

Sebastian, sensing the sudden uptick in tension, broke the silence first. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly, although the movement did nothing to ease the heavy knot forming in his gut.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "We planned for this. It should all go according to plan."

He tried to sound confident — reassuring — but even he could not ignore the twinge of unease crawling up his spine.

Yes, they had a strategy. A detailed, layered plan. They had even built in a failsafe, an emergency maneuver if the worst should happen.

But the odds were... not perfect.

Seventy percent.

Sebastian's jaw tightened. Seventy percent was good. In most circumstances, it was very good. But here — with billions of dollars, reputations, legacies, and even political futures hanging in the balance — thirty percent was an abyss too wide to ignore.

He knew better than anyone what was truly at stake.

If Blackwell Investments went public, the financial value would skyrocket. The Blackwell family would likely double, maybe even triple their wealth, catapulting themselves into the rarefied air of the ultra-billionaires.

But wealth wasn't the only currency they valued.

Going public would mean scrutiny. Oversight. Shareholders meddling. Government regulators peering into every ledger. It would mean trading absolute control for stockholder meetings, quarterly earnings reports, and the slow, inevitable erosion of the Blackwell family's iron grip over their empire.

In chasing a future of staggering riches, they would be surrendering the very thing that had made Blackwell Investments untouchable for decades: its independence.

And that was a price they were not willing to pay.

They would have more wealth, yes. But in exchange for something far more irreplaceable — something far beyond the reach of mere financial gain. The cost was nothing less than the very heart of what they had built.

With Blackwell Investments going public, the family would gain billions easily even trillions, easily shifting the scales of their fortune, but in doing so, they would lose their crown.

Power — the very essence of control — could never be bought. Money, for all its promises, could never truly buy it, it could only give you the opportunity to get it. Too many people misunderstood the true nature of power, equating it to the size of one's bank account. The truth, however, was far more elusive.

One could use money to obtain power, but the reverse was not so simple. You could not wield money to command the world in the way you could with pure, unchallenged authority. Power, in its truest form, was not just a measure of wealth; it was the mastery over one's own destiny, the undeniable sovereignty over a course unimpeded by external forces.

Sebastian, knowing his boss as he did, understood that the price of wealth, while alluring, paled in comparison to the true value of Alexander's vision. Money, though a tool, was nothing without the power to shape it, to direct it. And Alexander — for all his ambition and empire-building — knew that once he traded in his control for more zeros on a ledger, he would have forfeited the very thing that made him unstoppable.

Control was the foundation of Alexander Blackwell's power.

The probability of success — the cold, clinical figure of 70% — was a haunting number, one that gnawed at him with a ferocity that left his stomach in knots. It wasn't just the uncertainty that stung; it was the fact that Alexander, a man who thrived on certainty, who demanded control in every corner of his life, was now faced with the unthinkable: the loss of it all.

Blackwell Investments had been his fortress, his domain. Since the day his father had passed, it had been his and his alone. And even when his father had still walked the earth, the company had been molded into an extension of his will. Alexander had replaced all the board members, removed any dissenting voices, decentralized the decision-making processes, and made sure that the only voice that mattered was his own.

In the grand machinery of Blackwell Investments, he was the brain, the heart, the soul — the one who orchestrated every thought, every movement, every action. His will moved through the company like a pulse through a living organism. It was not just a corporation; it was an embodiment of his mind, his ambitions, his desires.

It had been exhausting — undeniably so. Every decision had been a struggle, every reshaping of the company a battle. But it had been worth it. The company moved for him. It bent to his whims, adapted to his goals, and executed his passions.

And in the process, it had become his greatest strength.

But now, ironically, it had become his greatest weakness.

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For all his planning, all his foresight, there was one blind spot that had gone unaddressed: the fragility of the control he had so meticulously crafted. He had prepared for rivals, for accusations, for enemies that would attempt to tarnish his reputation. He had even anticipated attacks on his personal wealth.

But never, not once, had he considered the possibility that someone might come after his control — the very core of what made him Alexander Blackwell.

Now, as the tension in the courtroom continued to rise, Alexander understood just how deeply he had miscalculated. He hadn't feared for the company. No, he had assumed — naively — that because Blackwell Investments was the centerpiece in so many other powerful families' portfolios, no one would dare harm it. Too many interests were entwined in its success. Too many elite families had a stake in its wealth.

But now, the truth was plain. They weren't here to harm the company — no, they were here for him. They were here for his power.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave. His greatest asset, the thing he had worked tirelessly to preserve, was slipping through his fingers. There was no more control. No more domination of his empire. The fate of Blackwell Investments no longer lay in his hands.

His empire, his creation, was now a pawn in a game that he was no longer playing. And it was the greatest humiliation he had ever known.

It was the humiliation of helplessness.

To someone like Alexander, whose very identity was bound to his power and control, this was not just a financial setback. It was an existential blow.

He, who had meticulously orchestrated every movement of his company, every thread of influence, was now a passive observer — forced to watch as others dictated the future of his life's work. The knowledge that the decisions being made in that courtroom could change everything — and he had no say in the matter — gnawed at him with an intensity that threatened to consume him.

For a man who had built his entire existence on certainty, the uncertainty of it all was unbearable.

He felt Loss.

The loss was deeper than any he had ever known — a wound that cut through the very core of his being. But what truly tormented him was not the loss itself; it was the gnawing, relentless question that circled in his mind, a question he dared not confront: How had it come to this?

Yet despite the pain, Alexander didn't blame his father. His father had given away 2% of the company, a decision made long ago, one that had seemed insignificant at the time. That small fraction, that 2%, had become the catalyst for this storm — but Alexander didn't blame his father. Nor did he blame his uncle, who had given his son, Desmond, the same gift. Nor did he blame Him, for that matter, for conspiring with his enemies, for seeking to strip away what had always been his birthright. No, they were all simply playing their part in the grand scheme, doing what they believed was best for them.

The truth, as Alexander saw it, was not that they had wronged him — but that he had wronged himself.

It was his hubris, his overconfidence in his invincibility, that had blinded him. He had believed that his control over Blackwell Investments, that the strength of his position, would be unassailable. He had believed that nothing could penetrate the fortress he had so carefully built around himself. He had failed to see the cracks — small, unnoticed at first, but deepening with every passing day.

More than anything, it was his lack of foresight that had doomed him. He had never imagined that someone, anyone, would have the audacity to challenge his reign — to come after the very thing that defined him. His inability to see past his own ambition, to recognize the forces quietly at work, was the mistake that had led him here.

And yet, in the face of it all, he couldn't afford to wallow in regret. The loss was profound, but it would not break him. It would not halt his plans. This moment, this agonizing blow to his pride and his legacy, would not define him. It was just another hurdle in the long game.

In truth, it was just the beginning. The end of this chapter would not mark his defeat, but the spark of something greater. Once this was over — once he had weathered this storm — he would make them all pay. They would not have the last word. The sting of this loss would be returned a hundredfold, and Alexander would see to it personally that those responsible for this betrayal would feel every ounce of the weight of their actions.

He would rise again, stronger, more calculated, and with a vengeance unlike any they had ever witnessed.

And as for those who he did not blame — those who thought him weak for having made these mistakes — let them hold their judgments. For they would be the ones left in the dust when Alexander Blackwell claimed what was his once more.

This loss, this bitter wound — it was only temporary.

But what he would do next? That would be his legacy. His name would be synonymous with power, with control. And those who had wronged him would learn — far too late — that there was no such thing as taking from Alexander Blackwell without paying the price.

His loss was but a prelude. And in the shadows of defeat, the darkness of his vengeance was already beginning to stir.