Chapter 4 - The Vipers Strike Back
While Malcolm spent the afternoon restructuring his company's social impact policies, a far darker plot was being hatched in a private lounge across town.
Julian Croft sat at a leather booth in the exclusive Crimson Club, pouring himself a third glass of scotch. Sitting across from him was Richard Vance—no relation to Arthur Vance—a notorious corporate raider and media mogul known for destroying his rivals through brutal tabloid smear campaigns.
"Is it true?" Richard asked, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "Did Malcolm Reed really fire you and allocate two hundred million dollars to a charity project for his daughter's homeless friend?"
"He's lost his mind, Richard!" Julian snarled, slamming his glass down. "He's letting some uneducated street beggar live in his Chestnut Hill mansion! He's compromised!"
Richard leaned forward, his small, dark eyes glinting with predatory cunning. "A billionaire taking an attractive, broke young mother into his private estate while his wife has been dead for three years? The press will have a field day with this."
"It gets better," Julian grinned wickedly, pulling a USB drive from his pocket. "I pulled Clara Murphy's old personnel file before they revoked my access. Her late father was Samuel Murphy."
Richard blinked, then let out a low whistle. "Samuel Murphy? The union organizer who tried to sue Reed Global fifteen years ago before he died in that suspicious car crash?"
"The very same," Julian sneered. "If we leak a story claiming that Malcolm Reed kidnapped the daughter of his old enemy to silence her, or that he's using corporate funds to cover up a sordid affair with a destitute employee... the stock will crash fifty percent by Friday."
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"And when the stock crashes," Richard finished the thought, his smile widening, "the institutional investors will initiate an emergency vote of no confidence to remove Malcolm as Chairman. We can buy up the panicked shares for dirt cheap and take control of the firm."
"Exactly," Julian laughed darkly. "Call your contacts at the Boston Chronicle. I want the front-page story printed tomorrow morning."
