Building The Strongest Family

The atmosphere in the Grand Parliament Conference Room had taken a dramatic turn.

Just moments ago, it was alive with hollow laughter and self-satisfied smirks, but now it felt stifling,thick with dread and unspoken fears.

Silence hung heavy in the air; no one dared to move or utter a word.

Their misdeeds, secrets, and lies were laid bare across the holographic screens that hovered like divine verdicts.

At the head of the table stood Arthur, cool and composed as a glacier.

His sharp suit caught the light, casting cold silver shadows across his face. But it wasn't just his appearance that sent shivers down their spines; it was the sheer weight of his presence.

He looked like a man who had just buried his enemies using their own tools and he wasn't finished yet.

From the briefcase handed to him by Derrick, Arthur slowly extracted a thick black leather folder, the kind typically reserved for high-stakes mergers and acquisitions, something you'd never expect to see among the Federation's elite unless they were about to be gutted like livestock.

With a deliberate thud, he placed the folder on the table and opened it slowly, much like a funeral director unveiling a casket.

Inside lay a pristine stack of legally binding transfer agreements that gleamed ominously under the overhead lights.

Silence enveloped the room. Not even a rustle of fabric or a cough broke through; everyone sat frozen in their seats, paralyzed by fear.

They knew their families were being watched, snipers tailing them, and any sign of resistance could mean death at Arthur's hands.

They could see it in his eyes: he meant business.

Arthur reached into the folder and pulled out the first document, placing it before Senator Delmar Kyreth.

"Sign it," he commanded in a low voice. "Forty percent of your total assets, liquid and holdings, transferred to me permanently."

Senator Kyreth stared at the document as if it were an execution order; his lips parted but no words emerged.

Arthur tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. "What? You thought I came here to beg?"

No response came from Kyreth.

Arthur's smile didn't reach his eyes as he continued, "You thought you could corner me, drag me in here and dangle your pathetic 'nationalization' over my head like some sort of sword."

He moved to the next chair and placed another document down with casual authority.

"Minister Raoul," he said smoothly, "you've got four companies under your brother's name. That offshore account in Azura? Cute, sign."

Raoul swallowed hard, trembling hands inching toward the pen.

He took another step forward, the air thick with tension.

"Lady Wyndham," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "you've been dodging federal business taxes for twelve years now. What do you think would happen if I sent this little digital folder to the Federation Revenue Enforcement Bureau? Oh, wait, I already did. But lucky for you, I haven't told them to act… yet."

He slid a third document across the table toward her. "Sign it."

One by one, he moved around the table like a grim reaper dishing out fates,no rush, no loud threats; he didn't need to raise his voice.

They had already witnessed the snipers in real-time and watched live feeds of their loved ones being followed: daughters, sons, lovers, parents, it was no bluff. They knew it was real.

Arthur had crossed a line, a point of no return and declared war.

When he reached the final seat occupied by Treasurer Maris Delaine, a smug woman who had mocked his "private megastructure" just twenty minutes prior, he placed the document down gently.

Leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek, he whispered, "You said I gave you something to regulate. But I don't recall inviting parasites to my table."

She flinched as her bravado crumbled under layers of terror.

Standing straight again, Arthur dusted off imaginary lint from his cuffs and returned to the head of the table.

The silence hung heavy in the air, breathless and taut.

Finally, Senator Kyreth, his lips pale and hands trembling, lifted the pen and signed.

The scratch of ink echoed like thunder in that deathly quiet room.

Arthur stood there with a devilish smile plastered on his face while his icy blue eyes pierced through them like shards of frozen glass.

Next came Minister Raoul and then Lady Wyndham; one by one they caved like dominoes falling in rapid succession.

As soon as those first few signatures were down, it became a race against time, each scrambling to surrender 40% of their holdings before Arthur decided that wouldn't be enough.

Derrick stood near the door with arms crossed and an unreadable expression; not once had he spoken since entering, the silence was Arthur's domain now.

As Arthur collected each signed document one by one, as calm as a man gathering chips at the end of a poker game, he surveyed the room.

Their faces had transformed; gone were triumphant smirks and fake laughter. Now only pale cheeks glistened with sweat beneath broken pride remained.

With slow satisfaction creeping into his smile, Arthur remarked, "That wasn't so hard now, was it? And really, not that bad either! I only asked for 40%, not all your assets! Look at me being generous!"

No one responded; they sat there like statues carved from stone.

"Let me make something crystal clear," he said, his voice as sharp and cold as winter steel. "You all got off easy."

His gaze swept over the elite families, the parliament leaders, and the so-called untouchables of Neo-Luminara, those who believed they were untouchable.

"You thought you were wolves circling an injured deer. But guess what? You never realized that deer was a goddamn apex predator."

With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed the holographic screens still flashing their sins; they blinked out of existence, but the damage was already done.

"From today onward," Arthur continued, "you will not interfere with the Osborn Mega Commercial Plaza. You will not whisper about nationalization. And if I even hear a whisper that one of you tried to meddle in my operations…"

He raised a folder filled with signed documents high above his head. "I'll release everything publicly."

"Consider this a ceasefire purchased with your blood."

Silence enveloped the room like a thick fog. Their fear spoke volumes.

Arthur strode toward the door, Derrick following closely behind him. Just before stepping out, Arthur turned back for one last word: "Oh, and don't forget to smile at the press when I announce your support for the Osborn Commercial Plaza."

And then he left.

For what felt like an eternity afterward, no one moved, not even to breathe.