Marcus’s mother thought carefully.
“The man said, ‘After nine, the problem takes care of itself.’”
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Edward checked the clock.
It was 9:27.
Howard asked, “Did he say anything else?”
She closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“Yes.
He said something about a vote.”
Edward went still.
Howard noticed.
“What vote?”
Edward walked to the window.
At eleven that morning, the board of Whitmore Holdings was scheduled to vote on an emergency restructuring plan.
For months, several senior investors had pressured Edward to break apart the company and sell its most profitable hospital logistics division.
The proposed sale would generate an enormous short-term payout but, in Edward’s view, cripple the medical shipping network he had spent years building.
He had enough voting control to stop it.
Without him, however, the board could authorize an interim chairman and reconsider the transaction.
Howard’s voice was quiet.
“Who benefits if you can’t attend that meeting?”
“Too many people.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
Edward had built his fortune by understanding incentives.
People rarely risked everything without expecting something greater in return.
If the attempt on his life was connected to the board vote, someone believed billions of dollars were worth the danger.
The laboratory called twenty-eight minutes later.
Howard answered on speaker.
The toxicologist did not name the substance at first.
He simply said the coffee contained a potent prescription compound at a concentration that could cause rapid collapse, especially in combination with Edward’s known heart medication.
Marcus’s mother gripped her son’s shoulders.
Edward stared at the untouched cup through the evidence bag.
“How quickly?” Howard asked.
“Potentially within minutes.”
The room fell silent.
Edward finally looked at Marcus.
The boy had gone pale.
“You were right,” Edward said.
Marcus whispered, “I hoped I wasn’t.”
That sentence stayed with Edward.
Howard immediately contacted federal authorities through an old colleague, but he requested discretion until the gray-suited man could be located.
They did not have to wait long.
The private elevator log showed that the stolen credential had been used again at 9:41.
Basement level.
Howard opened the garage cameras.
The man in the gray suit appeared near a black sedan.
He kept checking his phone.
“He’s waiting,” Marcus said.
Edward looked at him.
“For what?”
Marcus pointed at the screen.
“Maybe for somebody to tell him it worked.”
Howard stared at the boy again.
Then he picked up Edward’s office phone.
“We can give him that message.”
Edward understood.
