Ms. Adams, New Mission... 1

He paused, letting his words settle. Some of the board members exchanged uneasy glances, still skeptical but visibly intrigued.

"So here's the deal," Justin continued, his voice gaining a sharper edge. "Give me two months. That's it. Two months to prove I'm the right guy for this seat. In that time, I'll not only clean up this agency's image but also boost our revenue by 20 percent."

A murmur rippled through the room, and a few of the board members exchanged stunned looks.

"Twenty percent?" one of them finally blurted out, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Justin smirked. "Yeah, twenty. And before you ask—no, I'm not blowing smoke up your asses. I already have a plan in motion, one you'll all benefit from when it works. But here's the thing: I need you to back off and let me work. No more games, no more power plays, and definitely no more trying to use my past against me. You give me two months, and I'll make you look like fucking geniuses for keeping me in this chair."

The room fell into a heavy silence again, but this time, the atmosphere had shifted. The skepticism was still there, but it was mingled with something else: curiosity. Even a hint of hope.

Not that they could spell him out of the seat.

Frank shifted uncomfortably, his earlier smugness gone. "And if you don't deliver?" he asked, his tone cautious.

Justin's smirk widened. "If I don't deliver, I'll step down myself. No fight, no drama. You'll have my resignation in writing, and you can pick whoever the hell you want to take over." That's what they wanted to hear, not something he was going to do, just a little bit of reassurance,

"But I won't need to step down. Because I will deliver."

The board members looked at each other, their expressions a mix of doubt and reluctant agreement. Slowly, a few began to nod, and eventually, even the most skeptical among them gave a curt nod of approval.

Justin's manipulative tongue was in full swing, weaving a lie so smooth it sounded like gospel. He wasn't stepping down—hell no. That seat was his, and they didn't need to know otherwise. Let them stew in their skepticism, their little side-eyes and silent doubts. It didn't matter.

[+Ding! +10 Trust!]

The proposal he dropped wasn't just difficult—it was a goddamn Everest. But Justin wasn't sweating. He had a plan. Not to cling to the seat like some desperate loser but to build something untouchable, something that would make this agency not just survive but dominate the high society.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make them squirm.

The skepticism in their eyes? Yeah, he saw it. They weren't buying what he was selling—not yet. But that was fine. He thrived in this kind of chaos, where every word, every move, was a power play.

And while they were too busy wondering if he could pull it off, Justin was already thinking ten steps ahead. This wasn't about proving them wrong—it was about building an empire so damn big they'd have no choice but to kneel.

Because if there was one thing Justin Black knew, it was this: people believed what they wanted to believe. And right now? He was giving them just enough of a dream to cling to, while he turned that dream into his reality.

[Ding! Hidden Mission Completed.

Mission: Gain control over the board members and secure your position in the agency.

Rewards: $500,000, Business Management: Top-Tier Knowledge.]

Justin could feel the rush of information and strategies running deep inside his head. He felt like a seasoned bussiness man if not even more.

With a smile, hose from his seat, the room still deathly silent as every pair of eyes stayed locked on him. Without a word, he turned and stared toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance over his shoulder. "Ms. Adams, my office. Five minutes."

With that, he walked out, Selena trailing behind him like a shadow.

Back in the boardroom, the tension snapped like a rubber band. Kane lunged across the table, going straight for Frank's throat. Chairs toppled, shouts erupted, and chaos consumed the room, but Justin didn't hear a thing as the door swung shut behind him.

They could tear each other apart for all he cared.

Justin smirked to himself as he strode down the hall. They wanted a fight. "Now they know what happens when you step into my ring." He was about to turn the whole agency upside down.

*****

Justin stepped into the sleek glass elevator, the faint hum filling the silence as he leaned back against the mirrored wall. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, his reflection stared back at him, and a sly smirk curved his lips. "Weapons, huh?" he muttered under his breath. Damn right. They never even saw the knife coming.

As the elevator climbed higher, the chaos of the boardroom became a distant memory. When the doors finally slid open, he stepped into the top floor like he owned the whole damn city—which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong.

The lobby was a straight flex. Marble floors polished so clean they looked wet, massive windows showing off a skyline that screamed, "I've made it," and some abstract art hanging on the wall that probably cost more than someone's Ivy League tuition. Justin didn't know who painted it, and honestly? He didn't care. It was just there to remind people they weren't on his level.

The receptionist's desk sat empty, and beyond it, the massive double doors to his office gleamed like they were daring someone to try and knock. He pushed them open without a second thought, Selena trailing behind him like a shadow.

The office was the definition of a boss vibe. Dark wood-paneled walls that gave off that moody, untouchable energy.

A glass desk parked in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, everything on it arranged with military precision. Behind it, the city stretched out like his personal kingdom.

To the left, a low sectional faced a giant flat-screen, and a bar cart stocked with expensive whiskey practically whispered, Pour one. You deserve it. To the right, a discreet door led to a private suite. It had everything—king-sized bed, custom suits hanging like trophies in the wardrobe, and a bathroom that could make five-star hotels jealous. Black marble, rainfall shower, the works.

Justin yanked off his tie and dropped into his leather chair, letting out a low, satisfied, "Fuck, that felt good."

Selena leaned against the desk, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "Alright, spill it. How the hell did you pull that off? You didn't just wing it—Kane, Harold, but most especially, Frank... he looked like he'd seen a ghost. You had receipts, and not the kind you get at Target."

Justin grinned, his eyes flashing with that dangerous spark she'd come to expect from him. "Oh, I've been hunting, Aunt Sel. Always on the lookout for weapons. I just had to wait for the right moment to strike."

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "You're insane. But it worked, so… props, I guess. You're gonna need an assistant, by the way. I'll find someone by tomorrow."

Justin smirked, leaning back and propping one foot on the desk like he was the king of the world. "Don't bother. I've already got someone in mind."

Selena shot him a sharp look but didn't push it. Before she could say anything else, a knock at the door broke the moment. She glanced toward it, her face immediately souring. "I'll get it," she muttered, striding over to swing it open.

Ms. Adams walked in, looking like she'd spent an hour in front of the mirror rehearsing confidence but not quite pulling it off.

Selena didn't bother hiding her disgust, giving the woman a pointed look. "This better be quick," she said, her tone flat and cold before brushing past. "And Justin? Don't keep me waiting."

With that parting shot, Selena was gone, and Ms. Adams took a few hesitant steps into the room. The soft click of her heels echoed against the polished floor, but Justin stayed still, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk.

His eyes locked onto hers, that lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, Ms. Adams," he drawled, voice low and smooth, "welcome to my castle of control. Let's talk."