Chapter 9
Veyra Capital.
The $20B private equity firm I’d built from nothing in the five years since I’d faked my death.
I’d founded it under an alias, using a small inheritance from a distant uncle I’d never met as seed money.
I’d hired the best analysts, the best traders, the best lawyers in the world.
We’d invested in tech, real estate, energy, hotels.
We’d made billions.
And no one, not even Helen, had ever connected me to it.
Until now.
We landed in New York three hours later.
The Veridian Holdings offices were in a skyscraper in midtown Manhattan.
I walked into the CEO’s office, Elias and Carla right behind me, and sat down across from Arthur Hale, Veridian’s ruthless founder.
He was a man in his sixties with cold eyes and a sharp suit, and he smiled when he saw me.
“Daniel Voss,” he purred. “The man of the hour. I’ve been watching your little custody battle with great interest. Very entertaining.”
“I’m not here to entertain you, Arthur,” I said. “I’m here to buy the Langford stake you bought from Helen. Name your price.”
He laughed.
“Buy it? Why would I sell? I’m going to liquidate that company for $3B in profit. That’s a 50% return in three days. No amount of money you have can match that.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Actually, it can. Because I’m not just Daniel Voss, the hotel owner. I’m also the sole founder and managing partner of Veyra Capital.”
His smile faded.
“Bullshit. Veyra’s founder is anonymous. No one knows who he is.”
I slid a document across the table.
The incorporation papers.
With my signature on every page.
He stared at them, his face draining of color.
“Veyra has $20B in assets under management,” I said. “We own 18% of Langford through three separate funds. Combined with my personal 22%, that’s 40% of the company. If you try to liquidate, we will tie you up in court for ten years. We will challenge every sale, every asset transfer, every decision you make. You’ll spend more on legal fees than you’ll ever make from the liquidation. And in the end, you’ll lose.”
I leaned forward.
“Or you can sell me the stake for 15% over what you paid Helen. A $90M profit for three days’ work. No court fights. No bad press. You walk away rich, and I walk away with the company. Your choice.”
He stared at me for a long, heavy minute.
Then he stood and held out his hand.
“15% over. And you throw in a 2% stake in that new tech fund Veyra is launching.”
I shook his hand.
“Done.”
The papers were signed by midnight.
I owned 64% of Langford Group.
Enough to do whatever I wanted.
Enough to save the company.
Enough to fix everything the Langfords had broken.
We flew back home that same night.
I called an emergency board meeting for 4 a.m.
I walked into the boardroom, the Veridian purchase agreement in my hand, and laid it on the table.
The remaining Langford family members stared at it, their faces ashen.
“Effective immediately,” I said, “I am the majority owner and chief executive officer of Langford Group. Richard, you’re fired. All of Helen’s remaining allies on this board are fired. The employee pension fund is being fully restored, plus a 10% increase for every retiree. All frontline employees are getting a 15% raise, effective next pay period. The company is staying right here. No layoffs. No liquidation. We’re going to rebuild Langford into the company your grandfather built. And if any of you have a problem with that, you can sell your shares to me at market price and walk out the door. You have five minutes to decide.”
None of them left.
They all voted to approve my plan.
By 6 a.m., it was done.
Langford was saved.
I walked out of the building, exhausted, but happy.
Lila was safe.
Langford was saved.
Helen was defeated.
Everything was finally falling into place.
I climbed into my car, ready to go home to my daughter.
My phone rang.
It was Mrs. Lopez, our housekeeper.
She was screaming so hard I could barely understand her.
“Mr. Daniel! Oh my god! She’s here! She broke in through the back door! She has a knife! She’s yelling for Lila!”
My blood turned to ice.
Helen.
“Where’s Lila?” I yelled.
“I locked her in the safe room! She’s okay for now! But Helen is trying to break the door down! I don’t know how much longer it will hold! Hurry, Mr. Daniel! Please hurry!”
The line went dead.
I slammed my foot on the gas.
The car peeled out of the parking lot, tires screeching.
I was 20 minutes from the house.
20 minutes.
An eternity.
I called 911, screaming the address, telling them Helen was armed and dangerous.
I ran every red light.
I drove 100 miles an hour through residential streets.
All I could think about was Lila.
Alone in the dark.
Scared.
Helen was unhinged.
She’d lost everything.
She had nothing left to lose.
And if she got to Lila…
I couldn’t let myself think about it.
I turned onto my street.
The house was dark.
No lights.
No sound.
I skidded to a stop in the driveway, grabbed the tire iron from the trunk, and ran for the front door.
It was hanging open.
I stepped inside.
The living room was trashed.
Tables overturned.
Pictures smashed.
And from the back of the house, I heard it.
Helen’s voice.
Screaming.
“LILA! COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! YOU’RE MY DAUGHTER! YOU BELONG TO ME!”
I ran down the hallway toward the safe room.
And I stopped dead.
Helen was standing in front of the safe room door, a kitchen knife in her hand, pounding on the wood so hard her knuckles were bleeding.
She turned when she heard me.
Her eyes were wild.
Her hair was a mess.
Her face was streaked with tears and rage.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “You’re just in time. We can be a family again. You, me, Lila. Just like it used to be. All you have to do is give me back the company. Give me back everything that’s mine. And we can forget all of this ever happened.”
I held the tire iron up, keeping my voice calm.
“Put the knife down, Helen. The police are on their way. It’s over.”
She laughed, a high, crazy sound.
“Over? It’s never over, Daniel. If I can’t have Lila, no one can. If I can’t have the company, I’ll burn it all to the ground. Starting with her.”
She raised the knife and turned back to the door.
I ran at her.
She swung.
The knife sliced through my shirt, cutting my arm.
I grabbed her wrist and twisted.
The knife clattered to the floor.
I threw her to the ground, holding her down, as the sound of sirens grew louder and louder outside.
She screamed and thrashed, spitting and cursing, yelling that she’d kill us both, that she’d never stop.
The police burst through the door a second later.
They pulled her off me, handcuffing her, dragging her away, screaming the whole time.
I ran to the safe room door, fumbling with the keypad.
“Lila? Baby? It’s Daddy. Open the door. It’s okay. She’s gone.”
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Lila stood there, her rabbit clutched to her chest, her eyes wide.
She looked at the cut on my arm.
Then she threw herself into my arms, sobbing.
I held her tight, sitting on the floor in the hallway, the police walking around us, the sun starting to come up through the windows.
It was over.
Really over.
Helen was in jail.
She’d never hurt Lila again.
And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I wanted.
A quiet life.
With my daughter.
May you like
With my family.
Peace.
