Chapter 11: Shadows and Schemes

While the Roy family was occupied with salvaging their business, far away in a secluded estate, Aunt Grace sat in an opulent, candle-lit room, sipping on a glass of wine. Across from her, Nina and Ron listened attentively, their expressions unreadable as Grace delicately placed a leather-bound folder on the polished mahogany table between them.

(Of course their with William ,But he isn't present their.) 

"This," she said smoothly, tapping the folder, "is the key to dismantling Roy Industries."

Ron narrowed his eyes and flipped through the pages. His expression darkened as he scanned the contents—leaked financial records, supplier agreements, internal employee conflicts—ammunition in the form of information. He looked up sharply. "Where did you even get all of this?"

Grace smirked, swirling her wine glass with an air of satisfaction. "Dear boy, I've been in this game far longer than you. Connections, leverage, and a few misplaced loyalties—it's all about knowing where to look."

Nina leaned forward, her manicured fingers tracing the edge of the folder. A glint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "So what's the plan, Mom? How do we strike?"

Grace elegantly leaned back in her chair, exuding an air of effortless control. "Patience, my dear. We don't just strike—we let them collapse on their own. A few nudges in the right places, a few whispers in influential ears, and the Roy empire will start crumbling from within."

Ron exhaled sharply. "I don't want whispers. I want results. We need to hit them where it hurts."

Grace's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Oh, we will. But you forget, Ron, that the greatest weapon against power isn't force—it's doubt. And I've already planted the seeds. The golden empire will soon lose its luster."

Meanwhile, at Roy Industries, Billy Roy was engaged in a battle of his own—a battle against productivity.

He lay sprawled across his office couch, a pair of sunglasses perched on his face as he held up a magazine. The magazine was upside down, but that didn't seem to bother him. His lavishly decorated office, adorned with golden statuettes and intricate design models, reflected the grandeur of Roy Industries, a powerhouse in the luxury gold and design business.

Rin stormed into the room, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the disaster zone that was Billy's desk. Contracts lay abandoned, a half-eaten croissant balanced precariously on a stack of investment reports.

"Billy," she said flatly, "what are you doing?"

Billy peeked over his sunglasses, grinning. "Hard at work, sister. Very hard at work. Can't you see? This—" he waved the magazine dramatically "—is research."

Rin narrowed her eyes. "Research? Into what?"

Billy thought for a moment, then confidently declared, "The psychology of relaxation. It's essential for a healthy work-life balance. If I work too hard, I get stressed. If I get stressed, I make mistakes. If I make mistakes, the company suffers. Therefore, me lying here is actually an act of supreme self-sacrifice. I do this for the greater good."

Rin pinched the bridge of her nose. "Billy, I swear, I am going to chop you up and feed you to my royal dogs."

Billy flinched, sitting up immediately. "No need for such drastic measures, dear sister! I was just about to—"

She turned on her heel and left without another word.

Just as Billy got comfortable again, his phone buzzed. Lazily glancing at the screen, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest when he saw the sender.

Omio Roy.

Billy shot up straight. "Oh no. Oh no no no no. Does he know?" He gulped, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead. Taking a deep breath, he answered the call. "F-Father! What a pleasant surprise! Have I ever told you how much I admire your dedication and sheer willpower?"

Omio's deep voice came through the phone like a thunderclap. "Billy. I need you in my office. Now."

Billy chuckled nervously. "Ha ha! So soon? Can't this wait until—"

"Now."

The line went dead.

Billy swallowed. "Welp. That's my cue. Time to pretend I've been working all along."

He grabbed a random stack of papers—some were even upside down—and sprinted out of his office, hoping his father wouldn't see through his elaborate act.

Billy Roy sprinted through the hallways of Roy Industries, clutching a stack of random papers, some of which were promotional brochures instead of actual reports. His heart pounded in his chest as he neared the heavy oak doors of his father's office. Omio Roy was not a man to be kept waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Billy adjusted his tie, smoothed back his hair, and pushed open the door. "Father! Always a pleasure. You look absolutely—"

Omio Roy sat behind his massive gold-inlaid desk, his sharp gaze piercing through Billy like a well-aimed dagger. A stack of reports sat neatly in front of him, far more legitimate than the ones Billy was holding. "Sit. Now."

Billy gulped and obeyed, sinking into the leather chair. "So, what's the emergency? Need a fresh business strategy? A revolutionary gold design idea? Perhaps a—"

Omio placed a single document in front of Billy. It was an anonymous financial report, one that detailed minor yet alarming inconsistencies in Roy Industries' supply chain—delayed shipments, supplier contract breaches, and questionable transactions.

"Care to explain this?" Omio asked, his voice calm but carrying the weight of expectation.

Billy's eyes darted across the page. "Ah, yes. This. A very interesting document, indeed! What does it say, exactly?"

Omio's stare hardened. "It says that someone is trying to sabotage us. And I want to know if you've noticed anything suspicious."

Billy blinked. Sabotage? He had spent the last week perfecting his mid-afternoon naps, so he wasn't exactly tuned into corporate espionage. "Well...uh...now that you mention it, there was this one time Rin threatened to feed me to her royal dogs. That seemed pretty hostile."

Omio exhaled sharply. "Billy, this is serious. Someone is targeting Roy Industries, and if we don't act fast, we will lose our foothold in the gold and luxury market."

Billy sat up, finally registering the weight of the situation. "Okay. Okay. You're right. So what's the plan? Do we counterattack? Strengthen our market hold? Bribe a few suppliers to stay loyal?"

Omio gave him a pointed look. "We need information first. I want you to personally investigate our suppliers. If someone is tampering with our distribution, I need to know who."

Billy sighed dramatically. "You mean actual work?"

"Billy."

"Alright, alright! I'll do it."

Meanwhile, across the city, in the same dimly lit estate where shadows whispered secrets, Aunt Grace reclined in her chair, watching Nina pace the room.

"He's onto us," Nina muttered. "Omio Roy isn't stupid. He'll find out sooner or later."

Grace sipped her wine, unbothered. "He may suspect something, but he has no proof. Not yet."

Ron drummed his fingers on the table. "We should move faster. Hit them harder. If we wait too long, they'll retaliate."

Grace smirked. "Patience, my dear. The storm is only beginning to brew. And when it finally hits, the Roy empire will never recover."

A silence settled over the room as their plans continued to unfold, like a game of chess where each move brought their enemies closer to checkmate.

Billy, now back in his office, begrudgingly pulled out the supplier reports, rubbing his temples. "Alright, let's see who's messing with our gold shipments."

Just then, his phone buzzed. A private, unknown number.

Billy hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"

A distorted voice crackled through the speaker. "If you want to save Roy Industries, stop looking. Or you won't live to see the collapse."

Billy's blood ran cold.

Back at the estate, Grace smiled as she set down her own phone. "Let the real game begin."