7
551words
I'd deal with my uncle Harold first.
Miles would wait.
I had Wesley dig into Foster Holdings.
We uncovered financial discrepancies.
Evidence of tax evasion.
I met individually with the other board members.
My mind was clear.
Harold Foster, a bumbling incompetent, couldn't be allowed to steer the company any longer.
Only I could restore its value.
The investigation revealed rot far deeper than I imagined.
"You're saying," I clarified, disbelief warring with rage, "in three years, Foster Holdings hasn't secured a single new major contract?"
"The entire company has been coasting?"
"And my uncle Harold has been systematically siphoning funds?"
Wesley offered a grim smile.
"Sir, you know your uncle's... capabilities."
"Promising deals negotiated by managers? He bungled them."
"Key executives saw the writing on the wall. Many jumped ship."
I sighed.
Only the sheer scale of Foster wealth had prevented total collapse in three years.
I'd been soft, leaving the less capable Fosters in place, deeming them harmless.
I'd underestimated just how spectacularly incompetent Harold could be.
Wesley added, "The core team loyal to you... they stayed."
"But without you, sir, they had no incentive to excel."
"Now you're back... they'll follow."
Mentioning my old team brought a pang of guilt.
They'd been with me since my early days overseas.
When I'd been manipulated by Luna and Lydia, signing away my controlling stake, they'd tried to warn me.
The idiot I was had driven them away.
I owed them apologies.
After resolving other matters, I went to Foster Holdings headquarters.
Thirty-six floors of power.
Whispers followed me down the corridors.
"Is that Mr. Foster?"
"I thought he was... you know..."
"How come he's here?"
"Doesn't look like an idiot now... Is he cured?"
Wesley walked a step behind me, professionally discreet.
My uncle Harold intercepted us halfway, flanked by nervous sycophants.
Harold Foster was sweating profusely.
"Vincent! What brings you here today?"
He couldn't tell if the idiot remained, but the old fear was plain in his eyes.
I offered a cold smile. "Three years, Uncle. Didn't you miss me?"
Harold blanched, rooted to the spot, likely feeling his world implode.
"Vincent! What kind of talk is that? Weren't you... unwell? I was concerned!"
I placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of control, not comfort.
"Don't trouble yourself, Uncle."
"Let's skip the pleasantries. My mind is clear."
"Time to return what belongs to me."
Harold had barely tasted the power.
He wasn't ready to relinquish it.
He grasped at straws.
"Vincent... I am the majority shareholder now."
I snapped my fingers.
Wesley stepped forward, presenting documents.
"Uncle," I said, my voice dangerously smooth, "even majority shareholders can't escape the law."
"Especially when the board... well, most of it... supports myreturn."
Harold scanned the damning evidence – financial fraud, embezzlement, tax evasion.
His knees visibly shook.
As security moved in to escort him away, a final burst of defiance surfaced.
"Vincent Foster! You ruthless bastard!"
"Playing the weakling as a kid, then taking down your own father!"
"You think you're so clever? Ha!"
"Played like a fiddle by two women!"
"I'll be waiting for your downfall!"
I shrugged.
"Whether I fall or not remains to be seen."
"But you, Uncle... you're finished."
