Most of the people in the room were mid- to high-level stakeholders — n and won who had clawed their way into the company across decades. And all of them had assud that when Vantasio finally retired, they’d get a piece of the kingdom.
They were wrong.
"Let’s pause for a mont," Vantasio said, raising a hand. "I’d like to introduce you all to my heir."
He gestured to Dirga, who hadn’t even bothered with formal attire — simple black shirt, no tie, no polished shoes. A statent in itself.
"This is Dirgantara. From today onward, he will run the empire."
The silence broke.
Whispers turned to murmurs.
Murmurs turned to disbelief.
"What? That’s irregular—"
"Sir, this isn’t how succession works—"
"Is this legal?"
One voice rose. Then another. Then a third. Faces tensed, jaws tightened. This wasn’t a negotiation.
It was a storm.
But Vantasio’s voice cut through it like a blade.
"I do what I want."
The smile was gone.
"And your job is to do what I want."
A beat of silence.
Then:
"Yes, sir."
The resistance evaporated like smoke.
"I’ve already transferred 80 percent of my assets to Dirga," Vantasio continued. "The remaining 20 stays with . I’ll be retiring from active leadership. From now on, Dirga has full authority."
Not one person argued.
Not because they agreed — but because they feared him.
And because sothing about Dirga unnerved them, even if they couldn’t na it.
He said nothing.
Didn’t need to.
Just sat beside Vantasio at the table, watching as the eting resud — filled with graphs, financial data, growth projections, and corporate jargon that ant nothing to him. But it didn’t have to.
He wasn’t here to listen.
He was here to own.
During the eting, Dirga’s eyes t Lilith’s across the table.
There it was again.
That spark.
That silent war.
She wanted to say sothing.
And Dirga needed her to.
Lilith might be the next piece.
And in this ga — every piece mattered.
...
After the eting ended, the boardroom began to clear out. Tension still clung to the air like smoke after a fire.
Vantasio stretched his arms like a man finishing a performance.
"Well, Dirga," he said with a grin, "you’ve t the shareholders. They control the remaining twenty percent of the company. I still technically own it all, but that eighty percent I gave you?"
He tapped Dirga’s shoulder.
"It’s yours. I’ll begin my retirent plans this week. You settle in, get comfortable. Lilith will help you with the logistics."
Dirga reached out and shook his hand.
"Wishing you a peaceful retirent, Mr. Vantasio."
"Hah! I’ll need it."
With a laugh, Vantasio turned and walked out of the boardroom.
Dirga turned to Lilith, who hadn’t moved from her seat.
"So?" he said quietly.
"Anything you want to say?"
Lilith gave a slow, unreadable look.
"Let’s talk in my office," she said flatly.
The walk wasn’t long.
Lilith’s office wasn’t overly luxurious — clean, minimal, efficient. No gold trim or imported sculptures. Just dark wood, books, a screen, and a subtle security cara in the corner. Practical. Sharp. Like her.
"Take a seat."
Dirga chuckled.
"Ohhh. Scary."
He collapsed into the chair without hesitation.
Lilith folded her arms and leaned against her desk, looking at him like a surgeon inspecting a rare tumor.
"Mr. Dirgantara... I honestly don’t know what to call you."
She tilted her head. "A scamr, maybe?"
Dirga said nothing.
"Or maybe a genius," she continued, eyes narrowing. "A devil hiding in a hoodie."
Dirga smiled lazily.
"Straight to the point, Ms. Wolfie."
Lilith’s gaze sharpened.
"We don’t want you here. Leave before this gets ssy."
Her voice was serious now — cold and final.
Dirga leaned back, completely at ease.
"And if I don’t?"
"Then we’ll make you."
Dirga’s eyes glead with quiet nace.
"You can’t. It’s already in my na."
Lilith stared, but he didn’t flinch.
Then she spoke, lower now.
"We know about you, Dirga. About your family. Your... wife."
Dirga’s expression changed instantly.
The smile vanished.
Replaced by sothing colder.
Sothing inhuman.
His voice dropped to a growl.
"Don’t touch that line, Lilith."
She froze.
"Believe when I say... the pain I can cause makes the devil look polite."
The temperature in the room felt like it dropped.
Sothing pressed down. Heavy. Invisible. Power.
Lilith’s breath caught. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her instincts scread at her that she’d just pushed the wrong man too far.
He didn’t threaten her.
He warned her.
And sohow... that was worse.
Dirga stood slowly, adjusting his jacket.
"I’m offering you sothing better."
He stared her down. "Twenty percent. You stay. You help . You play your role."
Lilith hesitated, caught between fear and curiosity.
"What do you want?"
Dirga’s tone was even now — too even.
"Vantasio will die in three days."
Lilith blinked. "You’re going to kill him?"
"No," Dirga said. "His death will be natural."
"...That’s convenient."
"I just need your help with the transition. Keep the stakeholders calm. Take control when the ti cos. You know how this empire works. I don’t want chaos — I want precision."
Lilith sat down, folding her hands together.
A long silence passed between them.
Then she said:
"Fine. But I want it in writing. Transfer the twenty percent now."
Dirga nodded.
"Give the contract."
Without another word, Lilith opened her laptop. Within minutes, a new contract was drafted — lean, binding, legal. She printed it, placed it on the desk, and slid it to him.
Dirga didn’t hesitate.
He signed it.
The mont the pen touched paper, Lilith changed.
The tension faded. The sharp edge in her eyes softened — not trust, but calculation.
The seductress returned.
The professional mask slipped back into place.
And Dirga?
He simply watched her, mind already turning.
The piece was placed.
The board was ready.
All that remained now...
Was Watching the Final move
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