Page 46 of The Founder's Power

DAMIAN

The boardroom is quiet, sterile, and too bright, one of those elite Midtown towers Vincent seems to favor. Everything in here gleams—the glass table, the chrome fixtures, even the false civility.

He’s already seated when I walk in.

Vincent Grey wears a dark suit, perfectly tailored, his tie blood-red like always. Calculated. He looks up with a slow, satisfied smile as I cross the room and shut the door behind me.

“No entourage today?” he says, voice calm and smug. “I’m honored.”

“I came to talk,” I say, walking straight to the table, palms planted on the glass. “Face to face. You want a war? You got one, but you’re going to look me in the eye for it.”

Vincent leans back, steepling his fingers like a king waiting for tribute. “No pleasantries?” he asks. “Come now, Damian. After everything we’ve meant to each other.”

“You mean after you sabotaged my deals, tried to buy out my board, and launched a hostile takeover in the middle of my life falling apart?”

His smile doesn’t fade. “Business is business.”

“No,” I say coldly. “This was never about the company. This was about me. You couldn’t beat me in the open, so you waited until you could cut me off at the knees.”

He shrugs. “You always did like to believe you were the hero.”

“And you always needed to be the last man standing.”

We stare at each other. At one time, we were colleagues. Then we became rivals. Now, we’ve become something darker—two sides of the same coin, pressed together by ambition and poison.

“You were the one who taught me never to trust anyone,” I say quietly, “and I believed it. Built an empire from it. But here’s the thing, Vincent. I still have people in my corner, and I’m not afraid to let them help me now.”

His smirk twitches slightly. “You mean Isabelle.”

“I mean everyone… but yes. She stood beside me when you tried to break me, and she’ll still be standing when this is over.”

He rises slowly from his chair. “Do you really think sentiment wins wars, Damian?”

“No,” I reply, “but fear does, and you’re afraid.”

“Of what?”

I step closer, meeting his gaze. “Of becoming irrelevant. Of being the man who had to tear someone else down to matter.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll burn your name from every building,” he says. “I’ll make Kincaid a footnote in the history books.”

I smile. “No,” I say. “You won’t.”

He narrows his eyes.

“I’m not fighting this alone,” I add, “and I’m not fighting to win anymore. I’m fighting to build. That’s what separates us. You destroy. I create.”

We stare each other down.

Two titans.

Two boys who once wanted to rule the world.

Now men who’ve learned what it costs.

I lean in, voice low and steady. “Call off the takeover. Walk away before this buries us both.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but he’s no longer smirking. I can tell he doesn’t know what move to make next.

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