The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 188

Orion

For the past three days, my attempts to reach Aveline had been met with voicemails, brief text responses about being "swamped with work," and the growing realization that I was competing with her new company for her attention.

I sat in my study, running my hands through my hair in frustration, when Mitchell appeared in the doorway with his usual impeccable timing.

"Sir," he said, setting down a fresh cup of coffee with the kind of diplomatic smile that suggested he'd been watching my pathetic attempts at communication, "if you miss her so much, why don't you simply visit her at the company? I hear she's been quite busy rebuilding her business empire."

I looked up with a rueful laugh. "You know, Mitchell, I understand how business, power, and money can be like a drug for men—the rush of control, the addictive nature of success. I just never realized it could have the same effect on women."

Mitchell settled the tea service on the side table with practiced efficiency. "I can't help but wonder what kind of CEO young Master Ryan will grow up to be, with Miss Aveline's apparent ruthlessness and your own reputation for... strategic coldness in business matters."

"Mitchell," I interrupted with obvious embarrassment, "don't talk as if Aveline and I are definitely going to end up together."

"Oh, I wouldn't presume to comment on your romantic prospects, sir," Mitchell replied with barely concealed amusement. "I was merely considering the influence she'll have on Master Ryan in her capacity as his godmother. No matrimonial implications intended."

*Mitchell! When did you learn to tease me like this?* I thought with exasperation.

I was settling into my chair to properly brood over my tea when my phone rang. Marcus's name appeared on the screen, and something in the urgency of the ring tone made me answer immediately.

"Sir, we have a serious problem," Marcus said without preamble, his voice tight with anxiety. "Our stock price has dropped dramatically—we've gone from $847 per share yesterday morning to $712 as of twenty minutes ago. That's a sixteen percent drop in less than thirty-six hours."

I shot to my feet, nearly knocking over my tea. "What the hell are you talking about? A sixteen percent drop?"

"Multiple hedge funds appear to be coordinating a massive short-selling attack on Blackwell Industries. They're betting our stock price will continue falling, and their actions are creating exactly the market conditions they're predicting."

The implications hit me like a physical blow. If the stock price continued plummeting, our market capitalization would be devastated. Worse, we'd become vulnerable to hostile takeover attempts from competitors who'd been waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity.

"Call an emergency board meeting," I said, already moving toward the door. "Every major shareholder, thirty minutes."

Mitchell appeared instantly, clearly having overheard the conversation. "Sir, shall I have dinner held?"

I paused at the doorway, my expression turning predatory. "I won't be home tonight, Mitchell. And the people responsible for this are going to learn what happens when they try to destroy something I've built."

"Be careful, sir," Mitchell said, genuine concern replacing his usual dry humor.

I smiled, but there was nothing warm about it. "Oh, I intend to be very careful. It's the other side that should be worried."

Thirty minutes later, I strode into our main conference room to find exactly what I'd expected: chaos among most of the board members, and conspicuous calm from my uncle Devan and Charles Ashford.

The contrast was telling. While other shareholders were frantically checking their phones, whispering urgently to their advisors, and generally radiating the kind of panic that comes from watching millions of dollars disappear in real time, Devan and Charles sat at the far end of the table sharing what appeared to be casual conversation over tea.

*Well, well. At least now I know who's behind this.*

But their strategy puzzled me. Why would they engineer a coordinated attack that would damage their own holdings? Unless...

"Gentlemen," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. "I assume you're all aware of today's market activity regarding our stock price."

"Aware?" exploded Harrison Wetherby, one of our institutional investors. "Orion, my fund has lost twelve million dollars since yesterday! We need immediate action!"

"This is exactly the kind of volatility that makes us look unstable to potential partners," added Rebecca Chen, representing a consortium of smaller investors. "If we can't maintain basic market confidence—"

"If I may," Devan interrupted smoothly, producing a tablet loaded with what appeared to be news articles. "I think we should address one of the contributing factors to our current market perception problem."

He began projecting headlines onto the main screen: "CEO Orion Blackwell Spotted at Teacher's Home Overnight," "Blackwell Industries Head in Romantic Entanglement with Employee," "Questions Raised About Executive Judgment and Conflicts of Interest."

Several board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I could see the doubt creeping into their expressions—not about the veracity of the stories, but about whether my personal life was affecting our business credibility.

"If media influence were powerful enough to tank major corporations," I said calmly, studying each face around the table, "we never would have achieved market leadership in the first place."

I stood up, placing my hands flat on the conference table.

"I called this meeting not to seek your opinions, but to inform certain individuals that if they want to challenge my leadership, they're welcome to do so openly and directly. But anyone who deliberately sacrifices this company's collective interests for personal gain will face consequences they won't enjoy."

Devan and Charles exchanged glances but continued their quiet sidebar conversation, apparently unimpressed by my warning.

"That's all very dramatic, Orion," Charles said with patronizing calm, "but what's your actual plan for addressing this crisis? Every hour we delay costs us millions more in market value."