Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 168: Emergency Shareholder Meeting

Chapter 168: Emergency Shareholder Meeting

Rage seeped from William’s every pore, warping the air around him like heat off asphalt. His previously good mood shattered into shards. In that moment, he felt he could strangle anyone who so much as irritated him.

Jennifer, sensing the fury pulsing off him, asked again, "Dad, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

William let out a bitter grunt. "What else? Elliot Grant. That son of a bitch."

The words burned on his tongue, but fury clogged his throat, halting further speech. He took several sharp breaths, forcing the fire down before it could consume him.

"He’s called an emergency shareholder meeting. Tomorrow." William’s voice was tight, clipped. "Because of the company’s recent downturn, some of the other shareholders have aligned with him. They’re planning to vote me out."

His jaw clenched so hard it looked as though he might crack a tooth.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Why are you even wasting emotion on those circus monkeys? They couldn’t move a single strand of your hair before... they won’t now."

"This time feels different," William muttered. "The company’s situation is worse than it’s ever been."

"Even if they all unite, they still can’t match our shares," Jennifer countered. "We’re the largest stakeholders, Dad. They can’t outvote us."

William’s eyes narrowed. "The moment I heard Eleanor was back in town, I suspected Grant would try something like this. Amnesia or not, if he manages to get her involved, it’ll become a problem."

Jennifer nodded, thoughtful. "Then let’s turn this on its head. Use this opportunity. Show the shareholders that we own the majority. Let them see the truth. Their alliance means nothing."

William looked at her, a hard glint in his eye. "Are you sure we should reveal the transfer deed?"

"I’m sure. It’s time we stopped playing defence. Use the meeting to claim the chairmanship outright. Let them start their rebellion... we’ll end it."

Her confidence was unwavering, sharp as a blade.

William gave a grim smile and nodded. The conversation about the wedding was swiftly set aside. He picked up his phone and began making calls to loyal shareholders, summoning support. Jennifer did the same, rallying her backers and locking down alliances. They had a strategy now. A plan built not just to survive, but to conquer.

With the battlefield forming in their minds, both father and daughter went to sleep, their thoughts already deep into tomorrow.

***

The conference room of EverBuild Solutions Limited buzzed with anticipation and tension.

It wasn’t yet nine, but already over a hundred shareholders had filled the room. The air was thick with murmurs and speculation. Staff members, notified the night before, had worked overtime to prepare for what would be one of the most pivotal meetings in the company’s history.

Temporary workers had been hired to assist the regulars. Extra security had been stationed at the entrances and key junctions, ready to ensure order. Everyone present had been told, a new chairman is coming.

Among the staff, hope flickered... tentative, fragile. Some dared to believe that fresh leadership might reverse the company’s downward spiral. Others remained sceptical, their optimism buried under the weight of years of decline and poor performance.

Still, one truth bound them all: something was going to change.

Whispers rippled through the room like a restless tide.

"Mr. Grant is taking over. They say he can’t watch the company crumble any longer."

"He was the co-founder," another voice added. "He built this company with Esmeralda Langford. If anyone has the right..."

"I heard William Whitmore is going to make it official. No more Acting Chairman."

"Or maybe someone completely new... someone we haven’t seen before."

The low murmur of chatter continued to hum through the conference room until the main shareholders and directors began arriving, one by one. Each ascended to the elevated dais at the front of the room, exchanging stiff nods and thin-lipped glances as anticipation rippled through the assembled crowd. The gathered shareholders lowered their voices to hushed tones, their murmurs bouncing off the polished mahogany-panelled walls.

From the leftmost seat sat Amelia Hawthorne, heir to a Midlands manufacturing empire. A striking woman in her forties, her tailored blue business suit highlighted her ageless elegance. Everyone in the room knew Amelia had little genuine concern for EverBuild’s future... her father had invested in its early days, and she had inherited the shares along with a detached sense of obligation.

Beside her sat Rupert Caldwell, a man with a ruddy complexion and bushy eyebrows, gripping his ever-present monogrammed cane like a ceremonial sceptre.

Next was Arabella Sinclair, dressed in a crisp grey office suit, her raven hair tucked behind one ear. She scanned the room with sharp, calculating eyes. Like Amelia, her family had been early investors in EverBuild.

Then came Elliot Grant, the second-largest shareholder. Towering and grave in a charcoal suit, he sat with his hands clasped, his piercing gaze flicking across the crowd like a judge surveying a courtroom.

One seat remained conspicuously empty... the one reserved for the chairman, who had yet to arrive.

Beside the vacant chair sat Henry Smythe, the quiet investor from Yorkshire. Known for keeping out of company affairs unless profits were at stake, his fingers tapped rhythmically on the cover of his leather-bound notebook.

Next was Dr. Prisma Patel, the company’s Director of Projects and a shareholder in her own right. She sat upright, eyes forward, calm in the brewing storm.

At the far end was Marcus O’Donnell, Director of Operations. His father had held the same role before him, and the O’Donnell family still owned a substantial block of shares.

Despite the drama to come, hierarchy held. The high platform loomed over the assembly, a symbolic divide between the decision-makers and the rest. Yet today, the ground beneath it all felt unsteady.

Today’s emergency meeting had been convened at Elliot Grant’s behest. Now, with a subtle nod, he signalled to the man standing at the far right... Julian Rivers, the Director of Finance.

Julian stepped forward to the podium, a folder tucked under one arm. His voice cut clean through the last of the murmurs as he activated the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his gaze sweeping across the sea of tense faces, "thank you all for attending. Under normal circumstances, this meeting would be a celebration... a reaffirmation of our unity and vision. But unfortunately, we are gathered here today under the shadow of imminent collapse."

A collective hush fell over the room.

Behind him, the screen flickered to life. Lines of data, graphs, and profit projections sprawled across it in grim red tones. Every figure told a story of decline.

"Our cash flow has fallen by 45% this quarter," Julian said, his voice as steady as it was damning. "Our credit lines have been slashed. Suppliers are demanding advance payments. Unless we secure an immediate capital injection, bankruptcy is not a possibility... it is a certainty."

Gasps rippled across the room like startled birds. Arabella exchanged a glance with Dr. Patel. Grant’s knuckles whitened where his hands remained clasped.

Julian turned and gestured to a graph showing five years of financial erosion. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is the trajectory of our company. At this rate, we will not survive the next quarter."

He closed the folder.

"To prevent that outcome," he said, "the board’s key stakeholders and senior directors have agreed upon a decisive course of action. We propose the removal of Mr. William Whitmore from the position of acting chairman, and the appointment of a new chairman... someone who will return us to our roots, who understands the founding vision of this company."

Just then, the double doors at the rear of the conference room swung open.

A sharp voice echoed across the hall:

"Then tell me... who exactly is this new chairman? Elliot Grant? Has he ever even run a corner shop, let alone a national corporation?"

Heads turned in unison as William Whitmore strode into the room, his presence magnetic, his voice rich with authority and scorn. He walked directly to the dais, his eyes sweeping the assembly.

"This is EverBuild Solutions... a leading supplier in the region. This isn’t some charity foundation or aristocratic hobby. It’s a battlefield. And the years I’ve led this company, Mr. Grant couldn’t survive for same amount of days here, I guarantee it."

Gasps turned into murmurs of recognition. William’s voice carried righteous indignation, and even those who opposed him found it difficult not to nod.

"You want to return to the roots?" William asked, ascending the platform. "Fine. But remember... Mr. Grant was always a deskless director. He’s never run operations, never negotiated contracts, never faced the market. And yet you’ve entrusted him with your livelihoods? With our company?"

He turned to face the high table.

"And who gave you the right to make this decision without consulting me... the largest shareholder in EverBuild? What kind of coup is this?"

At last, Elliot Grant reached for the microphone before him.

"Don’t delude yourself, William. Your time is over. The company is returning to the hands of its rightful legacy. You’ve enjoyed unearned wealth and undeserved power long enough. Step down gracefully... retire, enjoy your pension. Before you’re thrown out."

William laughed, cold and scornful.

"What a grand mouth you’ve developed, Elliot. But let me remind you... my family holds 51.5% of EverBuild’s shares. What gives you the right to threaten me in my own company?"

Grant’s face remained unmoved as he replied, voice low but clear.

"You hold only 16.5%, William. The shares you and your daughter bought on the open market. The rest... the majority stake you’ve been wielding for years... were never yours to begin with. You held them as custodian for Miss Eleanor Langford."

He let the silence stretch before delivering the final blow.

"And as of yesterday, Eleanor officially revoked your custodianship. You no longer speak for her. You no longer own those shares. You are, by every legal measure, finished."