They Thought I Was A Fool, I Was Their Only Chance Chapter 10

They Thought I Was A Fool, I Was Their Only Chance Chapter 10

The billion–dollar equity certificate made Claire look faint.

She stared at it, eyes wide, her voice trembling.

“Sloane, you’re giving me an asset this important?”

“What if I ruin it?”

I kept my head down and continued reviewing the files.

“You have two PhDs. If you can’t keep a funding pool this size afloat, you may as well tear up your

diplomas.”

My tone was flat, without a trace of emotion.

The bluntness made Claire’s eyes turn red.

“Okay.”

She took a deep breath and hugged the certificate to her chest.

“I won’t let you down.”

When Claire left the office, her steps were much steadier than when she had entered.

Over the next two weeks, I used ruthless efficiency to remove every unstable force inside Sinclair

Holdings.

Ethan worked with me, using financial leverage to buy back several small companies that had tried to profit from our collapse.

Sinclair’s stock not only stabilized, but began climbing after the volatility, hitting its daily limit

several days in a row.

The idiot heiress everyone had laughed about had become the woman the entire circle feared.

That weekend, at the Sinclair estate, we had a rare family dinner.

The suffocating silence that had always filled the table was gone.

My father sat at the head of the table, glowing with pride.

He personally placed a piece of barbecue–glazed rib on my plate.

“Sloane, eat more.”

“You’ve lost weight these past two weeks. Let the department handle the work. Don’t run yoursel

into the ground.”

The way he looked at me was full of pride and affection.

This was the daughter he had always wanted.

Smart. Ruthless. Strong enough to carry the Sinclair name.

I picked up the rib and took a bite.

“Dad, I’m going to the federal detention center tomorrow.”

The mood at the table went still.

Ethan put down his fork and frowned.

“To see Blake Mercer?”

“That fraud is facing trial for wire fraud and embezzlement.”

“He’ll be in prison for at least fifteen years. Why bother seeing him?”

I wiped the corner of my mouth with a napkin.

“To find the final piece.”

Someone like Blake, a fox who had hidden inside Sinclair Holdings for ten years, could not have been working for Grant alone,

Grant was only a front man, a target someone else had placed in the line of fire.

The real player was still hiding beneath the surface.

The next morning, I sat in the attorney visitation room at the federal detention center.

Blake sat behind the glass, his hair shaved short, wearing a prison uniform.

The polished look of the former chief legal officer was gone.

He looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.

When I sat down, a poisonous flash entered his dead eyes.

“Here to laugh at me?”

His voice was raw and ugly.

I ignored him and got straight to the point.

“Blake, how’s the thought of fifteen years treating you?”

I leaned back, my expression calm.

“Thear the violent offenders inside have been giving you special attention every day.”

“A man in a suit who stole millions is exactly their type.”

Blake’s body jerked.

He gripped the bars between us, red veins webbing his eyes.

“Sloane Sinclair! What the hell do you want?”

“I’m already in custody. Are you still trying to destroy me?”

I looked at him coldly.

“Destroy you? You don’t rate that much effort.”

I leaned closer to the glass and lowered my voice.

“Grant’s funding collapsed. Why did the offshore private–equity fund behind him pull out right before the attack?”

“Who tipped them off and turned Grant into a disposable asset?”

Blake froze.

His eyes darted as he weighed his options.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was still trying to hold on.

I smiled and stood.

Then I prepared to leave.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know.”

“I only wanted to tell you that your wife ran off with another man last week, taking your twenty million dollars in dirty money with her.”

“Your son was expelled from his private boarding school overseas because you couldn’t pay the

tuition.”

I paused and watched his face collapse.

“Counsel Mercer, you played a terrible hand.”

“You’re lying!”

Blake shot to his feet and beat both hands against the glass, like an animal gone mad.

“It can’t be true! I arranged every escape route for her! How dare she?”

The correctional officer rushed over and forced him down.

“Settle down!”

I stood several steps away and watched his final struggle without sympathy.

People like him believed they controlled everything, but they forgot that human nature was the one thing no one could safely test.

“If you think I’m lying, have your attorney check.”

My voice remained flat. I felt no pity.

“Blake Mercer, this is your last chance.”

“Tell me who is really behind this.”

“Otherwise, you’ll spend fifteen years inside, and when you get out, there will be nothing left but empty air.”

The correctional officer held Blake against the chair as he gasped for breath.

His defenses finally collapsed.

Tears and snot ran down his face. He was a wreck.

“It… it was the Prescott family.”

He forced the name through clenched teeth.

“The Prescotts?”

I narrowed my eyes.

The Prescotts, the East Coast dynasty everyone called an invisible financial empire.

Why would they target Sinclair Holdings?

“Why?” I pressed.

Blake gave a bitter laugh.

“Because your father knew what was hidden beneath the South Basin tract.”

“That isn’t worthless land. The surveys found an extraordinarily rare critical–minerals deposit

iderneath it.”

“The Prescotts want the property, but they don’t want to draw attention. That’s why they sent Grant

to short Sinclair into the ground.”

“Once Sinclair Holdings went bankrupt, they could take the land at a bargain price and call it

legitimate.”

So that was it.

No wonder Grant had been willing to sacrifice his reputation to force my father to sign.

No wonder he had refused to surrender the property until the end.

I turned and walked toward the exit.

“Sloane Sinclair!”

Blake screamed after me.

“You can’t beat the Prescotts! They can crush Sinclair Holdings with one phone call!”

“You’ll all end up in here with me!”

His laughter echoed wildly down the corridor.

. I didn’t look back.

Can’t beat them?

When I sent several multinational oligarchs to prison in my previous life, the Prescotts were still playing in the sandbox.

The sunlight outside the detention center was painfully bright.

Ethan was waiting at the curb in his car.

I opened the door and got in.

“Well? Did you get anything?”

He handed me a bottle of water, concern in his eyes.

I twisted off the cap and took a drink.

“Ethan, lock down the South Basin tract. Don’t let anyone inside. Not even a fly.”

“Contact the best geological survey team in the country and send them in quietly.”

Ethan’s expression changed.

“You mean…”

“We have a gold mine in our hands, and we almost let someone throw it away as garbage.”

I looked out at the city rushing past, a cold smile touching my lips.

Over the next month, Sinclair Holdings entered a state of emergency.

The survey results came back.

The deposit was real. The reserves were extraordinary, and its value was impossible to calculate.

The Prescotts heard the news soon enough and began pressuring Sinclair Holdings through every

channel they controlled.

Funding was blocked, projects were sabotaged, and even government approvals started facing unexplained delays.

My father went gray with worry.

“Sloane, the Prescotts are too powerful. We can’t hold them off much longer.”

He said it at a family strategy meeting, his face full of concern.

I dropped a thick file onto the table.

“Dad, don’t be afraid.“”

“If the Prescotts refuse to play by the rules, we’ll use the law to teach them how.”

Using memories from my previous life, I gathered evidence that several core Prescott companies were involved in antitrust violations and improper financial dealings.

I sent the evidence overnight to federal authorities.

At the same time, on behalf of Sinclair Holdings, I transferred a controlling fifty–one percent interest in the South Basin mineral project to a federally backed critical–minerals initiative.

That move cut the ground out from under the Prescotts and pushed them straight to the brink.

Once the feds stepped in, who was going to risk touching the project?

By the very next morning, federal agents were at Prescott offices, launching a formal investigation.

The Prescott family’s century–old empire began to crumble.

Three months later.

The head of the Prescott family was arrested on multiple federal charges involving financial

crimes.

Riding the momentum of the federally designated critical–minerals project, Sinclair Holdings tripled its market value and firmly took the industry’s top spot.

Another year passed. It was New Year’s Eve.

The Sinclair estate blazed with light, filled with laughter.

Claire’s lab had achieved a major breakthrough, and Ethan’s investment portfolio had made a

fortune.

My father lifted his glass, his face glowing.

“This toast is for Sinclair’s greatest asset: Sloane.”

Every eye turned toward me.

They were full of pride, awe, and love.

I raised my sparkling cider and tapped it against theirs.

“To the Sinclairs.”

I took a sip. It was sweet.

In my previous life, I had given everything to pursue absolute justice, only to die from overwork.

In this life, I had only wanted to be a quiet, useless mute.

But.

I looked at the living, breathing family in front of me.

Fine.

Being the person who picked up the knife only when necessary to protect my own little corner of the

world wasn’t so bad.

Actually, it was pretty good.

The Fard