I Received a Text from 30 Years in the FUTURE—So I Sent My Billionaire Family to HELL Chapter 07

I Received a Text from 30 Years in the FUTURE—So I Sent My Billionaire Family to HELL Chapter 07

Once I knew it was Vivian’s doing, I didn’t go back to Mr. Smith.

He was relying on the Astor family’s company right now. The fact that he tipped me off at all was already

more than he owed me.

After I got home, I did one thing immediately. I made Mia the public-facing CEO of our company.

I could pretty much figure out what was going through Vivian’s head.

But when Mia found out Vivian was behind everything, she was furious. Red-eyed, she started cursing.

“Vivian’s a total imposter. Are the Vanderbilts’ brains stuffed with shit? They treat their own flesh and blood

like this!”

I just looked at the plant on my desk, perfectly calm. I even managed to comfort her.

“Alright, Mia. Let’s focus on what we can change.”

“You take over as the public CEO for now. I’ll handle the funding.”

Vivian wanted to use the Astors to box me in, to cut off any chance of me ever entering the Vanderbilts’

sight.

That thought had crossed my mind before.

I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

Both the Vanderbilts and Astors were rooted in Ashford, but they’d been trying to expand north in recent

years.

My fingers tapped the desk unconsciously. I turned to Mia, who looked ready to kill the whole Vanderbilt

family.

“I need to go abroad for a while.”

“You’re going… to see the Rockefellers?”

I nodded. My voice gave nothing away.

“I can’t just let them hold a knife to my throat forever.”

Mia hugged me, her eyes red. “Don’t worry. No matter what, you’ve got me.”

My eyes curved. “I know.”

Right then, I finally understood what William meant back then.

If a car were about to hit either the Vanderbilts or Mia, and I could only save one-

I’d pick Mia. No hesitation.

Mia and I each went our separate ways.

I was in charge of going overseas to convince the deep-pocketed Rockefellers.

If I could land their investment, maybe we could really take off.

And Mia, as our new public CEO, was in charge of our existing business and keeping the team stable.

She also kept developing new business lines.

Growing our market share while improving our products.

I camped outside the Rockefellers’ overseas capital building for days with my proposal.

They’d been trying to acquire our project for a while. They probably knew the trouble we were in. This time,

they weren’t going to waste the opportunity.

When the receptionist told me again that Ms. Rockefeller wasn’t available, I knew they were waiting for me to

cave.

But this wasn’t just my work. It was the blood and sweat of every team member who’d slept and eaten at the

office, grinding through countless nights.

I wasn’t going to compromise.

So I asked the receptionist to pass along one last message.

“I have the latest project proposal here. If Ms. Rockefeller truly doesn’t have the time, then that’s a shame.”

I left a copy for her to forward.

Then I got ready to head back home and look for other options.

Rockefeller Group was the best choice. Not the only one.

But just as I was about to leave the country, Ms. Rockefeller called. She wanted to meet and talk.

I knew she wouldn’t pass up this opportunity. All the runaround before was just her trying to maximize her share while I was desperate.

I smiled coldly but still showed up on time.

Businesspeople. Eternal interests, no permanent friends.

Privately, I really respected the head of the Rockefeller family.

Lost her mom young, fought her way through her father’s illegitimate kids to raise her little brother, and even

quietly pushed her own father out of power.

A woman among women.

Once we met, everything went smoothly.

Another reason I liked Ms. Rockefeller? When negotiating, you didn’t have to drink pointless alcohol.

I handed her the full proposal and sipped my tea nice and clean.

She flipped through it for a while, then tapped the table. A gleam flashed in her eyes.

“Ms. Summers, let’s not play games. You’re asking me to invest a lot. The equity share would be…”

I set down my cup and smiled. “Ms. Rockefeller, why not take another look at our first-generation product’s

market share?”

I opened my laptop and showed her.

“And I’m sure you have the insight to spot the profit behind this.”

She shrugged and handed the laptop back.

“Sure, but plenty of second-gen products flop compared to the first. Besides, you can’t control every variable.”

I met her eyes. “Five percentage points. That’s the most I’ll go up.”

She stared right back. Neither of us backed down.

Finally, she raised her cup. “Deal.”

I raised mine too, smiling. “Ms. Rockefeller. Pleasure doing business.”