For a moment, the old man’s weathered face remained motionless. Then his expression twisted, deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes.
"Young man, do you have any idea what you’re saying?"
"Perfectly."
"You’re offering to buy my shares as though you’re purchasing a cup of coffee."
"If the price is right, why not?"
The answer was delivered with such effortless confidence that several board members exchanged glances.
John’s face darkened.
Henry, meanwhile, struggled to suppress a smirk.
He knew that expression on John’s face.
He had seen it years ago, back when he was still the chief executive officer of Dalton Realty.
John had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember, constantly challenging his decisions and making even routine negotiations unnecessarily difficult.
Worse, the old fox had once maneuvered him into a deal that cost Henry two percent of his shares.
Henry had never forgotten the humiliation.
And now, for the first time, he was watching John experience something similar at the hands of the next generation.
It was deeply satisfying.
Still, Henry cleared his throat and assumed the solemn expression expected of a chairman.
"Gentlemen, why don’t we all sit down and discuss the matter calmly? We’re here to resolve a crisis, not create another one."
Everyone returned to their seats, though the tension in the room remained palpable.
Kristoff finally settled into his chair.
"There’s no need to panic," he announced. "The matter circulating on the internet will be resolved by twelve o’clock today."
His statement was met with a mixture of disbelief and skepticism.
"Twelve o’clock?" someone repeated.
"That’s less than three hours away!"
"President Dalton, are you certain you can deliver?"
Kristoff rested one arm on the table.
"Absolutely."
John Ascott leaned back in his chair, studying the younger man with renewed interest.
"You sound remarkably confident, Young Dalton."
"Confidence is hardly a crime, Mr. Ascott."
"No. But making promises you cannot keep is a very expensive habit."
"Then it’s fortunate that I intend to keep mine."
A few people lowered their heads, concealing their reactions. Others watched the exchange with undisguised fascination.
John’s eyes narrowed.
He had dealt with countless businessmen throughout his career. Most either tried to impress him with elaborate arguments or grew visibly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
Kristoff did neither.
The young man was composed, sharp-tongued, and entirely unafraid to challenge him in front of the board.
For the first time, John wondered whether Kristoff might be even more troublesome than his father.
An idea suddenly occurred to him.
"Since you’re so certain you’ll resolve this crisis before noon, why don’t we make a bet?"
Henry’s expression changed.
His gaze snapped toward John.
What is that old fox up to?
He knew John’s tricks all too well. The man had a habit of turning business discussions into wagers whenever he sensed an opportunity to gain an advantage.
Henry had learned that lesson the hard way.
"Kristoff," he warned quietly, "don’t fall for it."
But Kristoff merely smiled.
"Let’s hear it, Mr. Ascott. What are we betting on?"
John’s lips curled upward.
"Two percent of your shares."
The boardroom erupted.
"Mr. Ascott, this is hardly the time!"
"Both of you should focus on resolving the crisis!"
"Chairman, surely you won’t allow this!"
Henry’s hands clenched beneath the table.
Two percent of Kristoff’s shares was no trivial amount. Depending on the valuation, it could represent a fortune—and, more importantly, a significant portion of his son’s influence within the company.
"Kristoff, don’t do it," Henry said firmly. "This is exactly what he wants."
"I know, Dad."
"Then—"
"I’m not finished listening to him."
Kristoff’s gaze remained fixed on John.
The old man looked increasingly pleased with himself. He seemed convinced that he had found a way to turn Kristoff’s confidence against him.
"Two percent," John repeated. "If you fail to resolve the scandal by noon, you transfer that percentage of your shares to me."
"And if I succeed?"
John gave a dismissive wave.
"Then you can name your reward."
Kristoff chuckled.
"That’s rather generous of you."
"Unless you’re afraid?"
The challenge hung in the air.
Kristoff leaned forward, resting his hands on the polished surface of the table.
"Two percent isn’t enough."
John’s smile faltered.
"What did you say?"
"I’m willing to take the bet, but I want five percent of your shares if I win."
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Henry turned sharply toward his son.
Five percent?
Was Kristoff deliberately provoking the old man, or had he already calculated every possible outcome?
John stared at him, clearly caught off guard. Then his surprise gave way to a slow, satisfied smile.
"Five percent?" he repeated. "And if you fail?"
"You get five percent of mine."
The old man’s smile widened.
He had underestimated Kristoff.
For a moment, he had thought the young man was more intelligent than his father. But perhaps the resemblance between them ran deeper than he had realized.
He’s just as reckless as Henry.
Less than three hours remained before the deadline. The scandal had already spread across multiple platforms, attracting public outrage and relentless speculation.
Even if Kristoff managed to suppress the worst of the rumors, restoring public confidence would be another matter entirely.
How could he possibly resolve everything before noon?
John was certain the young man had walked straight into his trap.
"What if I say I dare?" he challenged.
Kristoff’s smile grew colder.
"Then we have a deal."
The boardroom descended into chaos.
Several directors immediately protested, arguing that the two men were risking valuable shares when the company should be concentrating on damage control.
But Kristoff had already made up his mind.
He raised a hand toward the doorway.
Gracie, who had been waiting outside, stepped forward at once.
"Prepare the agreement," he instructed.
"Five percent of our respective shareholdings. The deadline is twelve noon today. If I fail to resolve the scandal by then, I transfer five percent of my shares to Mr. Ascott. If I succeed, he transfers five percent of his shares to me."
"Understood, President Dalton."
Gracie left without hesitation.
John leaned back in his chair, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
I’ve got you now, young man.
He had expected Kristoff to make a show of confidence, perhaps even to bluff his way through the meeting. He had not expected the young man to offer five percent.
But that only made the wager more attractive.
Even if Kristoff somehow managed to contain the scandal, three hours was hardly enough time to erase its effects from the internet. The damage had already been done, and the market had already reacted.
There was no way the young man could win.
Unless, of course, he had some extraordinary trick up his sleeve.
John dismissed the possibility.
If Kristoff had such a powerful solution, he would have used it already.