On both sides of the long conference table, the directors sat with icy expressions.
The voices that had been raised in dispute moments ago suddenly fell silent, leaving only the faint hum of the central air conditioning.
The director in the head seat slowly closed his folder.
His gaze landed on Shane, devoid of any warmth.
“Since it has come to this, Mr.
Shane, please step down as CEO of Lark.
Ms.
Bernie will be taking over the position.”
As soon as he finished speaking, several others nodded in agreement immediately, as if the scene had been rehearsed long ago.
Bernie sat not far away, her face wearing a perfectly measured look of regret, though the spark of triumph in her eyes was impossible to hide.
Shane’s fingers curled slightly at his side, yet his face remained calm—he even allowed a faint curve to touch his lips.
He had long since seen through the masks these people wore.
Power grabs, dilution, cannibalization—they played through the process with practiced mastery.
Did they really think they could squeeze him dry like this?
*If you won’t let me play, I can’t be bothered to keep bickering with you anyway.*
Of course, faced with Shane’s refusal to compromise, the members of the board weren’t about to coddle him.
They moved instantly to strip him of his position, though they didn’t force him to hand over his shares.
After all, these greedy vultures of the financial world didn’t dare to commit open robbery.
They preferred to work in the shadows, using underhanded schemes to wrest the shares from Shane’s hands.
Their first order of business would be to dilute his stake and then compress the value of the stock, making it worthless.
For them, that was child’s play.
However, the moment Shane decided to resign, he had already formulated a counter-strategy.
He didn’t even intend to stay for the rest of the meeting.
He left the financing documents unsigned, grabbed his coat, and walked straight out.
He drove home immediately to retrieve the physical share certificates from his safe.
The car sped toward Wall Street.
Skyscrapers pierced the clouds on either side, their glass curtain walls reflecting the piercing sunlight.
This was the heart of capital, where staggering wealth flowed every second of every day.
Shane walked straight into the lobby of JPMorgan Chase.
The marble floors were polished to a mirror shine, and the people passing by were all dressed in sharp suits, moving with hurried steps.
After stating his business, a dedicated relationship manager quickly ushered him into a private meeting room.
By the time the coffee was served, legal and risk management personnel were already in place.
A stack of agreements was laid out on the table: stock pledges, loan contracts, right of first refusal, and trust management agreements.
It was a thick pile.
Shane scanned the terms at lightning speed.
Gripping the fountain pen, he didn’t hesitate for a second.
The nib met the paper, his signature fluid and firm.
Simultaneously, Shane reached an agreement with JPMorgan: if the loan was not repaid within one year, the shares of Lark would be sold directly to the bank.
He knew clearly that he could never fight State Street Global alone.
So, he had brought a heavyweight into the ring.
Any tactics State Street Global planned to use against him would now have to contend with JPMorgan.
To JPMorgan, these shares were now their property, and they would never allow their value to be depreciated.
As for Shane, based on Lark’s current valuation and the news that Alexandra was about to inject 200 million USD, he successfully secured a 60-million-dollar loan at an interest rate of 4.5%.
Shane didn’t care about the interest rate.
He knew those shares were as good as gone, and he had no intention of paying back the money.
Leaving the bank, Shane headed directly to several brokerages.
He opened multiple securities accounts in one go to disperse his funds and erase his tracks.
His high-priced financial team was already on standby; the traders and analysts sat before their screens, waiting for his command.
“Fifty-five million.
Put it all into Stark Industries stock.”
Shane leaned back in his chair, his tone calm but carrying an unquestionable decisiveness.
The analyst blinked in surprise but nodded immediately.
“Understood, Boss.”
No one knew that Shane’s gaze had already moved past the candlestick charts on the screens, looking toward the near future.
Tony Stark had just signed a massive order with the military, and the stock price was already strong.
As long as he dumped everything before the kidnapping incident and then flipped to short the stock, this single move would be enough to make him filthy rich.
*Stark Industries’ stock should stay strong until Iron Man gets kidnapped, right?*
*After all, Tony just signed that contract with the military before the attack.
The shares should keep rising until then.*
*I don’t really know which other companies are worth buying anyway, so I might as well go all-in on Stark.
I just need to sell everything before Tony’s incident and then start shorting.*
With that thought, Shane turned to the lead financier.
“Keep a close eye on Stark Industries.
Notify me immediately if anything happens—especially regarding that playboy.
But don’t bother me with tabloid gossip.”
“Yes, Boss!”
After giving his instructions, Shane returned to his home.
He had finally extricated himself from the quagmire of Lark.
To him, the company had become exactly that: a swamp.
Sitting in his car, Shane felt a lingering sense of unease.
The name Alexandra was as common as could be, yet it refused to leave his mind.
At a certain moment, a blurred memory suddenly snapped into focus.
Alexandra…
The Hand.
The moment the thought surfaced, a layer of cold sweat broke out on Shane’s back.
In the Marvel movies, the Hand wasn’t particularly prominent, but in the real underworld, they were a pack of monsters who had lived for centuries—ruthless, cruel, and willing to use any means necessary.
Fortunately, he had made his exit quickly enough.
Now that he remembered “The Hand,” Shane wanted absolutely nothing more to do with Lark.
“The Hand doesn’t have much screen time in the MCU, but their power is nothing to sneeze at.”
“I’m in no position to deal with them right now.
Better to stay away.”
After arriving home and freshening up, Shane sat back down in his laboratory.
There were only three days left before he was due at the MIT Nuclear Laboratory.
He needed to prepare and plan carefully.
After all, experiments at the MIT lab were supervised by university professors.
Shane had to scrub certain technologies from his experimental plan beforehand to ensure nothing sensitive was exposed.
And so, Shane immersed himself in his work once more.
Three days later…
The MIT campus was shaded by lush trees.
Even during the break, students could be seen hurrying past clutching books, the air thick with an atmosphere of academia and logic.
Shane followed Professor Puen through several academic buildings, finally stopping before a low-profile but heavily guarded building.
He swiped his card, registered, and signed non-disclosure agreements and safety liability forms.
By the time he was done signing, his pen was nearly out of ink.
The contents were the usual: strict prohibitions against unauthorized operations, no private modification of equipment, and mandatory reporting of any danger.
On the surface, Shane nodded solemnly, but he was mentally scoffing.
*If I really want to make something, you guys won’t be able to stop me.*
This was followed by radiation surveys and dosimeter calibrations.
He donned layers of protective gear—safety glasses, cut-resistant gloves, and a heavy lead apron that pressed down on him with a serious sense of danger.
Only when the thick shielding door slowly opened and the internal instruments began to hum did Shane truly step into the realm of nuclear energy.
After putting on the basic protective gear—safety glasses, gloves, and lead apron—Shane finally entered the lab proper.
He couldn’t just start operating the equipment immediately.
He had to listen to Professor Puen’s lectures; he still had much to learn regarding nuclear experimentation.
For his own safety, Shane listened to the professor with great patience.
He asked questions from time to time and received detailed explanations.
It took another three days of instruction under Professor Puen before Shane successfully attempted his first minor nuclear experiment.
Encouraged by that first success, his confidence surged.
He began to operate independently, systematically carrying out experimental trials according to his plan.
Life in the lab was monotonous but fulfilling.
He spent his days immersed in instruments and data, moving from basic reaction control to step-by-step progress on his own hidden experiments.
Shane went from being a novice to becoming increasingly proficient.
Professor Puen was full of praise for his insight, simply viewing him as a rare genius.
Only Shane knew that his mind contained knowledge that far surpassed this era.
When he was tired, he would nap in the lounge; when he woke up, he continued tuning parameters.
Days flew by amidst the hum of machinery and the rustle of paper.
Outside the window, the seasons turned.
Before he knew it, six months had passed.