I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 58: Shareholders’ Meeting V

The Blackwell estate was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning that maintained a pristine atmosphere within Alexander’s office. The room, with its imposing black marble desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, and meticulously curated artwork, exuded power and precision—much like the man who occupied it. Alexander Blackwell sat at his desk, his black eyes cold and calculating as he reviewed the documents spread before him. The faint scent of leather from his chair lingered as he reached for the intercom.

"Sebastian," Alexander’s deep voice resonated.

Moments later, the door opened, and Sebastian entered. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed immaculately in a tailored three-piece suit. Despite his composed demeanor, years of service in the Blackwell household had honed his ability to detect shifts in the atmosphere, and today, the air felt different.

"You called, sir?"

Alexander didn’t immediately answer. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest. Finally, he turned slightly, lifting a sleek black folder and holding it out.

"Take a look at this," he instructed.

Sebastian approached, taking the folder with a steady hand. He opened it, his eyes scanning the pages. The more he read, the wider his eyes grew. His usual stoic expression faltered as he processed the implications.

"Sir... Project Fallen Star?" His voice dropped to a whisper, tinged with disbelief. "I thought you and your father concluded it was too risky and decided to shelve it."

Alexander rose from his chair and walked to the massive window that overlooked the oceanic view. The setting sun painted his silhouette in hues of gold and crimson, casting an almost otherworldly glow. He clasped his hands behind his back, his reflection in the glass looking every bit the image of a man who thrived on calculated risks.

"I’ve started it, Sebastian. We’re already in the beginning phases," Alexander said, his tone calm but resolute.

Sebastian stiffened, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on him.

"Sir, forgive me, but this... this project was deemed too volatile. If the slightest detail goes awry—"

"We lose everything," Alexander interrupted, turning to face him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes burned with an intensity that silenced any further objections. "I know the risks, Sebastian. That’s why I called you. This initial phase is critical. If it’s not executed perfectly, the entire Blackwell legacy could crumble."

Sebastian bowed his head slightly. "What do you need from me, sir?"

"Double the security detail for my mother. I want her movements monitored and her safety prioritized at all times. As for Caroline, ensure that her current security team at the university is reinforced discreetly. She’s safe for now, but I don’t want any gaps in her protection."

"Understood, sir," Sebastian replied. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "And Miss Everlyn? Has she been informed about this... development?"

Alexander’s expression hardened, and he turned back to the window. "No. Everlyn is aware of the overall plan, but she doesn’t know the full scope. Not yet."

Sebastian frowned slightly but kept his tone neutral. "Sir, if I may, Everlyn has proven herself time and again. I believe she can be trusted with this."

"This isn’t about trust," Alexander said sharply, turning to face him again. "It’s about capability. I’ll observe how she handles this first phase. If she succeeds, then, and only then, will she be brought into the full scope. Until then, the full details remain between you and me."

Sebastian nodded, though his thoughts lingered on Everlyn. She was his daughter, after all, and he had seen her grow into one of the most formidable minds in the Blackwell empire. But Alexander’s logic was irrefutable, and he wouldn’t press further.

"Very well, sir. I’ll make the necessary preparations immediately."

Alexander nodded, dismissing him with a slight gesture.

Sebastian turned and left the office, his polished shoes echoing softly against the marble floor. Once outside, he closed the door and leaned against it, his usually composed demeanor slipping. For a moment, his face twisted into an unnatural grin, his eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Project Fallen Star...

The very name sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins. It was the most ambitious—and dangerous—endeavor the Blackwell family had ever conceived. Cassius Blackwell, Alexander’s father, had shelved it out of fear of the immense risks involved. But Alexander... Alexander was different.

Sebastian’s mind raced as he stood there, shaking slightly. His years as Cassius’s right-hand man before being relegated to household duties had left him yearning for the thrill of being in the thick of things. Now, with Alexander at the helm, that fire had been reignited.

"The new head of the family..." Sebastian muttered under his breath. "He’s every bit as daring as his father... no, more daring."

He slapped his own face lightly, steeling his nerves. Focus. Precision. No room for error. He began walking briskly down the corridor, his mind already calculating the logistics of Alexander’s orders.

If anything went wrong, the Blackwell empire would crumble under the weight of its own ambition. But if they succeeded...

If they succeeded, Alexander Blackwell wouldn’t just secure his family’s legacy. He’d redefine it.

With a final, determined glance down the hall, Sebastian quickened his pace, ready to do whatever it took to ensure the plan’s success.

The conference room at NVIDIA headquarters felt tighter than it had an hour ago, though the dimensions had not changed.

The tension hung in the air like a storm cloud, thick and charged. Everlyn Hawthorne sat at the long, polished table, her posture regal but not rigid, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Across from her, Jensen Huang maintained his usual calm, a subtle smile playing on his lips as though he were already rehearsing his victory speech.

The mediator, a man from T. Rowe Price, leaned forward. His bespectacled eyes flicked between the two figures at the center of the room. "Before we proceed further, the shareholders have the opportunity to ask questions. Let’s begin."

A flurry of movement erupted as several hands shot up. The first shareholder called upon was a representative from Fidelity Investments, a middle-aged woman with a sharp gaze.

"Miss Hawthorne," she began, her tone cutting, "you’ve made it clear that you believe your expertise and Mr. Brown’s experience could benefit this company. However, we all know Blackwell Investments’ history. Your track record often leans toward control rather than partnership. How do you reconcile that with Jensen Huang’s point about maintaining harmony on the board?"

Everlyn smiled, unfazed. "An excellent question," she said smoothly. "Blackwell Investments does indeed have a reputation for active involvement. But that’s because we are not passive investors. We bring value beyond just capital. Mr. Brown’s 25 years of experience handling billion-dollar deals, coupled with his deep understanding of AI scalability and distributed systems, would enhance NVIDIA’s strategic decision-making. This is about complementing, not disrupting, what Mr. Huang has built."

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly but nodded.

The next question came from a younger man representing State Street. He adjusted his tie nervously before speaking. "Miss Hawthorne, your former chairman, Cassius Blackwell, famously said that any company with Blackwell on its board sees a ’paradigm shift.’ Is that your intention here?"

Everlyn tilted her head. "A paradigm shift need not be a bad thing. NVIDIA is already a leader in AI, gaming, and accelerated computing. Our goal is to amplify what’s working and innovate where there’s potential for more. A shift doesn’t mean upheaval—it means growth."

Jensen leaned forward, his voice cutting into the room. "Growth for whom, Miss Hawthorne? NVIDIA’s shareholders or Blackwell Investments?"

Everlyn met his gaze, unflinching. "For both, Mr. Huang. The success of one inevitably feeds the success of the other. You know that as well as I do."

The room shifted as murmurs spread among the shareholders.

The next voice was louder, sharper. "Miss Hawthorne, your confidence is commendable," said Anna Morales, BlackRock’s representative, a woman with a booming voice and an aggressive demeanor. "But confidence doesn’t equate to trust. Your firm’s methods have often been described as... let’s say, domineering. NVIDIA has thrived under Mr. Huang’s leadership. What guarantees can you provide that your involvement won’t destabilize the board’s unity?"

Everlyn’s calm faltered for the first time. She took a slow breath before responding, her voice steady. "Destabilization isn’t in Blackwell’s DNA. What we offer is focus. Paul Brown’s expertise is laser-sharp; his track record in navigating complex business landscapes speaks for itself. Our intention is not to replace or overrule but to enhance. Stability and profitability are not mutually exclusive."

The woman’s eyebrows rose slightly, her skepticism still evident. "Enhance? Or control?"

Everlyn leaned forward, her eyes flashing. "Control is irrelevant if the company thrives. What matters is that NVIDIA’s shareholders see exponential returns on their investments. Blackwell Investments has a history of delivering exactly that."

The room buzzed again, the tension palpable.

Jensen seized the moment, standing and addressing the room directly. "Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve heard Miss Hawthorne’s pitch. But let’s not ignore the reality. Blackwell Investments doesn’t just join boards—they dominate them. They shift the balance of power, and not always in ways that benefit the company as a whole. NVIDIA’s success has been built on collaboration, not hierarchy. Introducing a force like Blackwell disrupts that balance."

Everlyn stood as well, her voice cutting through the room. "With all due respect, Mr. Huang, disruption isn’t inherently negative. NVIDIA disrupted the tech world to become what it is today. What we bring is not chaos but strategy—targeted, data-driven strategy that enhances profitability."

Jensen’s smile tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. He turned to the shareholders. "You’ve seen what we’ve achieved. Under my leadership, NVIDIA has become an industry leader. The team we have here works because of trust and synergy. Adding Blackwell to the board risks undermining that."

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The shareholders exchanged glances, the weight of their decision evident in their expressions.

The mediator cleared his throat, his voice breaking the tension. "I believe we’ve heard enough from both sides. It’s time to carry a vote."

Jensen leaned back in his chair, a confident smile gracing his lips.

The mediator raised his hand. "Those in favor of allowing Blackwell Investments a seat on NVIDIA’s board of directors, please raise your hands."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Jensen’s shock, the mediator himself raised his hand.

Jensen’s smile faltered for a split second but quickly returned. His eyes scanned the room as David Cartwright from State Street raised his hand next.

The smile on Jensen’s face grew, radiating assurance. Two hands were not enough to tip the balance. His gaze shifted to the representatives from BlackRock and Vanguard, Anna Morales and Gerald Thompson, their arms still firmly down.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A shuffle in the room. A hand twitched.

The air seemed to freeze as everyone in the room turned to see who would make the next move.