London time, 1:00 PM.
Heavy dark clouds hung low outside the window. Occasionally, a few crows crossed the gray sky, letting out hoarse caws.
Beside the large circular oak conference table that could seat dozens, high-ranking executives and collateral relatives of the Morstan family were scattered in small groups, voicing their dissatisfaction.
Three consecutive days of emergency meetings had left everyone feeling as though they were being roasted over an open flame. On one side, the South Bank warehouses remained sealed. On the other, the factories in the East District were in chaos due to material shortages.
The most painful part was the strange stalemate, like an endless tug-of-war, with no resolution in sight.
No ordinary person would want to be here, but given their positions, refusal was impossible.
Please let this be the last one—most of them were thinking exactly that.
"It's already the third day!"
Howard irritably loosened his tie and slammed the Cuban cigar in his hand against the crystal ashtray so hard that it snapped in two.
"When is she going to stop? Every single day she drags us old folks here as punishment, throws out the message that she's 'not satisfied,' and then leaves! Does she really think the Morstan Group is some university club activity for children to play with?"
Several small shareholders sitting near him, exhausted by the chaos of the past few days, nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, Scotland Yard still hasn't budged on the South Bank. Even though Benson used his own funds to buy raw materials from the East District at high prices, that's no long-term solution."
"Benson looks even worse today than he did yesterday."
Someone glanced toward Benson Morstan, who was huddled in the corner. The once stout man stared blankly at the table, as though his soul had left his body. He didn't even have the strength to wipe his sweat.
"Who knows? Maybe he's just worried about losing twenty thousand pounds' worth of weight."
Howard gave a short laugh and turned toward Adrian, who was sitting at the left end of the table with his eyes closed, resting.
"Mr. Adrian, we have to make a decision today. If that woman keeps acting like she's not afraid of anything, then we should join forces and file a forced buyout lawsuit! Even if both sides suffer huge losses, we can't let her drag this out any longer!"
Adrian remained silent, gripping his gold cane tightly with his wrinkled hands. The veins on the back of his hands stood out prominently.
No one knew what kind of hellish night this cunning old man—who had dominated London for forty years—had endured last night. Even now, his underwear was still soaked with cold sweat, and the slightest sound made his already frayed nerves tremble.
Click—
The heavy brass-clad oak door was pushed open from the outside by the butler, William.
The previously noisy conference room fell silent in an instant. Everyone's eyes turned toward the door.
Mary Morstan maintained her enigmatic, composed demeanor. She walked calmly to the head seat at the table, removed her coat and handed it to William behind her, then elegantly took her seat.
"My apologies, esteemed elders. The snow outside is quite deep, and I was delayed on the way."
The girl gave a slight nod, her emerald-green eyes sweeping the room. A faint smile played on her lips.
"Mary, this meaningless tug-of-war has to end."
Howard launched the first attack, placing both hands on the table and speaking in an aggressive tone.
"It's already been three days! You've been calling us here every day, but all we do is glare at each other and waste time. Has there been any concrete progress in resolving the South Shore crisis? If you're still trying to control the South Shore unilaterally, the board will never agree!"
In response to Howard's sharp questioning, Mary did not counterattack as she had the previous two days. Instead, she looked surprised. She tilted her head slightly, her moist eyes carrying a trace of innocent curiosity.
"You were called here?"
Her soft voice echoed through the conference room, unable to hide her astonishment.
"Uncle Howard, perhaps there's been some misunderstanding?"
"Misunderstanding?"
Howard was momentarily at a loss for words, then furrowed his brows even deeper.
"Weren't you the one who issued the emergency meeting notice under the head of household's name?"
"Of course not."
Mary naturally leaned back in her chair, then took out a gold pen from her pocket in front of everyone and began fiddling with it.
"To be honest, I was planning to rest at home today. The unloading of raw materials has already begun in the East District, and the workers seem to have calmed down. As for the South Bank… as I've already said, since we couldn't reach an agreement, we might as well have Scotland Yard keep it sealed for a few more days. There's no rush."
She paused and looked at the executives, who were exchanging puzzled glances.
"During lunch, William reported to me that one of the directors had exercised their joint convocation right and requested an emergency shareholders' meeting at 2 PM. Could it be that one of the elders in this family has finally come to their senses and is showing the young head of household a way out?"
The moment these words were spoken, the conference room was enveloped in a deathly silence.
Everyone looked at one another, suspicion and confusion in their eyes. If Mary hadn't called them here, then who had the authority to forcibly gather everyone at this critical juncture?
In the suffocating silence, the dull sound of a cane striking the floor suddenly rang out.
Thud.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
Adrian Morstan, who had been sitting with his eyes closed like an old monk in meditation, slowly opened his bloodshot, cloudy eyes.
"There's no need to keep guessing."
Adrian's voice was hoarse, like a saw cutting through wood.
"I convened today's meeting."
The conference room erupted into chaos once more.
Howard stared in disbelief at his former ally, who had once led them in opposition to Mary.
"Adrian? What are you trying to do? Did you find some legal way to remove her directly?"
Mary stopped playing with the gold pen. She rested her chin on her hand and blinked in puzzlement.
"Do you have something to announce, Uncle Adrian?"
Adrian took a deep breath and gripped his cane tightly with both hands. He didn't even look at Mary, who was sitting grandly in the main seat. He simply lowered his eyelids and forced the words out through his throat.
"I asked everyone to gather here because there is an important decision that must be publicly announced."
Adrian's voice—filled with resentment, coldness, and humiliation—echoed through the empty oak conference room.
"Regarding the series of crises caused by the occupation of the South Bank warehouses… after careful evaluation and consideration throughout the night…"
Taking into account Scotland Yard's current hardline stance and the urgent need for the East End textile factories to maintain stable operations,
"I propose…"
He gritted his teeth, as though struggling with an extremely painful internal conflict before uttering the next words.
"What kind of proposal?"
Mary spoke quietly in a curious tone, but Adrian detected a hint of coercion in her voice.
He gripped his cane tightly and forced out the remaining words through clenched teeth.
"I propose… to fully support Mary Morstan's decisions as the sole legitimate heir of the family."
The moment the first words left his mouth, the entire conference room fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone stared at Adrian as though they had misheard.
After the first sentence, the rest flowed more smoothly from Adrian's lips. It was as if a long-clogged water pipe had finally been cleared—the remaining words poured out without hesitation.
"She shall be granted full authority to form a new audit and management team, immediately take over all operations of the South Shore logistics warehouses, and represent the Morstan Group in negotiations with the authorities to lift the lockdown.
During this period, the board of directors shall unconditionally cooperate with all of her decisions and shall not obstruct or interfere in any form."
"..."
The moment these words left his mouth, the deathly silence that had filled the room was shattered.
The executives who had been whispering among themselves stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the leader of the hardliners, who just yesterday had sworn to fight Mary to the death.
"Adrian! Are you out of your mind?!"
Howard was the first to stand up, staring at his former teammate with an incredulous expression.
"What did you say to me yesterday?! What did you say when we left the company yesterday?! You said you would never compromise with that little girl! You said you would never let her hold all the power, even if it meant losing the South Bank warehouses! What are you doing now? Begging her for mercy?! Huh?!"
Faced with Howard's hysterical barrage of questions, a flash of shame and defeat crossed Adrian's spotted face.
He did not argue back. He quietly wiped his sweat-dampened palms on the hem of his black trousers, then gripped the gold cane—the symbol of his authority for decades—once more.
"The times have changed, Howard."
Adrian's voice was terrifyingly low, as though he were desperately clinging to a ridiculous shred of dignity in his final moments.
"The Morstan family no longer has the luxury of internal strife. If we allow the South Bank warehouses to be seized, the group's reputation will suffer a devastating blow. As elders, we must learn to step aside and make way for younger, more energetic people—for the sake of the family's future."
This noble, even righteous-sounding nonsense sounded utterly absurd to everyone present.
Compromise? Concession?
Was this something you, Adrian Morstan, would do?
Benson Morstan, who had been hiding in the corner like a ghost, stood up straight with a strange expression. He looked at Adrian with a complex gaze that mixed sympathy and schadenfreude.
No one understood Adrian's despair better than Benson. It was the terror and humiliation of having all secrets exposed and every trump card mercilessly crushed—worse than death itself.
"Now that Uncle Adrian has made his position clear… in order to save the family's future from collapse and seize this opportunity to be reborn like a phoenix…"
Mary's voice once again drew everyone's attention.
"Let's vote, everyone."
The girl spoke quietly. "Time is precious for all of us. I hope this is the last time."
When she finished, the conference room fell silent again.
Even the most hot-tempered Howard lost the courage to continue resisting the moment he saw Adrian's completely dejected appearance—like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. When even the two largest "ships" had already raised the white flag, any sailors still waving flags and shouting would only end up in a far more miserable state than they were now. Moreover, after the initial anger subsided, even the dull-witted Howard could see what had happened from Adrian's utterly crushed expression.
Clearly, he had failed to bribe the phantom thief. Worse, the situation had reversed, and he had been strangled by the very same thief.
"I… agree as well."
Benson was the first to raise his hand—wisely so.
"I agree."
"I agree as well."
In the atmosphere of deathly silence and oppression, the directors representing the highest authority of the Morstan Group raised their arms one after another like tamed sheep, expressing their agreement.
In the end, even Howard lowered his head in humiliation and signed Mary's power of attorney—a document filled with overbearing clauses.
"Very good."
Mary looked at the documents covered in signatures that William had collected and smiled with satisfaction.
Without sparing another glance at these defeated men, she straightened her expensive coat and stood up briskly.
"Then today's meeting is adjourned."
The girl's voice was light and bright, like a butterfly about to take flight in the sunlight.
"Esteemed elders, you must be very tired after the past few days. Allow me to wish you a Merry Christmas a little early."
The door opened and closed again.
"Congratulations!"
William followed closely behind Mary. His aged face was filled with pure excitement and awe.
"Master would be very proud of you if he knew!"
Proud?
Mary sneered inwardly.
If Arthur Morstan knew about this, he would probably be so furious he'd jump to his bed.
But so what? She didn't care.
The young woman walked lightly down the corridor carpeted with thick red rugs. The cold, arrogant mask she had worn seemed to melt away the instant she left the conference room.
"The remaining negotiations will be in your hands, William—and the new team."
Mary was in high spirits. She reached up and tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear.
"I've already spoken with Inspector Lestrade. Now that the real smugglers have been arrested, as long as they pay sufficient fines and cooperate with the investigation, it's only a matter of time before the innocent goods are unsealed. As for how to explain these fines to the shareholders, you'll need to have the details ready."
"Please rest assured, Miss!"
William made a solemn promise.
"I believe you. William, prepare the car."
She spoke softly, a mischievous smile on her lips.
"Let's go tell Father the good news."