I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 130: Sides II

"Nathaniel wasn't merely trying to break the Blackwells. That was only the surface. Patrick had been in this world long enough to know that there was always a deeper play. And then it hit him—Nathaniel wasn't just after the Blackwells' downfall. He was after their money.

Everyone knew it. The Morgans were the custodians of the Blackwells' vast fortune. Billions upon billions, safeguarded under their management. If the Morgans chose to freeze those accounts, or even just make it difficult for Alexander to access his wealth, it would spell disaster for him. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much influence or power a man wielded, money was still the lifeblood of it all.

Patrick's mind was racing, connecting the dots. If money was the true objective, then that would mean—

A sudden sound jolted him out of his thoughts, dragging him back to the reality of the meeting.

"Are you insane?" came the sharp voice of David Morgan, his second son. The usually playful and carefree younger Morgan was anything but lighthearted now. His expression was dark, his eyes filled with barely restrained fury. "You want to betray generations of tradition? You want us to bow to the Rockerfellers? Have you forgotten that for most of our family's history, we were their enemies?"

His words were directed at his elder brother, Thomas, who remained seated, calm, unaffected. Unlike David, Thomas was known for his calculated demeanor, his air of superiority. He met his brother's rage with quiet confidence, an unwavering certainty in his position.

"I'm not saying we bow to anyone," Thomas replied smoothly. "I'm saying we would have more to gain from the Blackwells' fall. They are going to fall, whether we take action or not. So why shouldn't we make sure we benefit from it? With our influence, we could secure a significant portion of their resources." His voice lowered slightly, his tone sharpening. "Especially since you decided to pick a fight with the Montgomery family. We need all the resources and allies we can get. If we side with Nathaniel now, we ensure that when the time comes, he will side with us."

David scoffed, his hands balling into fists. "I didn't pick a fight with the Montgomerys. They picked a fight with us. Or did you conveniently forget that they insulted Daphne right to our faces? Are you really suggesting we let that stand?"

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Thomas exhaled, shaking his head. "If you and she had simply followed the rules, none of that would have happened. Do you even realize what you've done? We have spent years building a steady foothold in Europe, carefully solidifying our influence. And you—" he pointed a finger at David "—you went and antagonized one of the strongest families there, making our position even more fragile."

David's jaw tightened. "You're an idiot if you think we don't already have a strong foothold in Europe. And it's all courtesy of the very man you're so eager to betray now."

Thomas rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, come on. You mean one little bank somewhere? That's nothing." He leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a cutting edge. "You made a colossal mistake challenging the Montgomerys. It shows your lack of control. Your inability to think rationally. And now, you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment again. The Blackwells are going down. The only logical move is to position ourselves to gain from it."

David's teeth clenched, his anger bubbling over. "I wouldn't be so sure about the Blackwells' collapse. And as for the Montgomery issue—" he leaned back, crossing his arms with a smug smirk "—I wasn't the one who initiated the attack. That was Dad. So I guess, by your logic, he lacks control and clear decision-making skills too?"

Thomas stiffened. His composure faltered for a moment. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh? Then what did you mean?" David pressed, his smirk widening.

"Don't put words in my mouth," Thomas snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Ignoring him, Thomas turned to face their father, who had remained silent throughout their argument. "Father," he said, regaining his composure. "I've already arranged for Nathaniel to speak with you himself. He can explain everything in detail."

At that, David's face twisted in disbelief. "Wait—you already called him? Are you insane?"

Thomas didn't flinch. "What? He wanted to speak with Father personally. It's better to hear it directly from him. He's been waiting outside for over twenty minutes."

David stared at him in shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But Thomas wasn't done. He leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he recalled his conversation with Nathaniel.

First, they would destroy the Blackwells. Then, when their vast fortune was up for grabs, the Morgans and the other families would divide the spoils. And as the one who had recommended this course of action, as the one who had positioned their family at the center of it all, Thomas knew what his reward would be.

He would finally push his bastard of a brother out of the inheritance race.

Thomas could already see it happening. It was all within his grasp.

But before David could say another word, their father finally spoke. His voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the room like a blade.

"Bring him in."

It was the first thing he had said since the meeting began.

Nathaniel Rockerfeller stepped into the Morgan boardroom with the confidence of a man who believed the world itself was in his pocket. His dark suit was crisp, every detail of his appearance meticulously arranged—powerful, untouchable, above mere negotiations. His smile was evident as he strode forward, nodding at Thomas in quiet approval before turning his gaze to David.

"David," he greeted smoothly.

David didn't answer. He just snorted, arms crossed, eyes sharp with undisguised hostility. Nathaniel barely spared him a second glance before shifting his attention to Patrick Morgan.

"Mr. Morgan," he said with a polite dip of his head. "It's good to see you."

Patrick studied him in silence, his eyes unreadable, his presence as unshakable as the name he bore. Then, finally, he opened his mouth.

"What do you want, Rockerfeller?"

Nathaniel's expression remained pleasant, effortlessly slipping into the well-rehearsed speech he had undoubtedly given behind other closed doors. "Sir, I came to you because of what's been happening. I understand how this may appear, but I want to assure you, we are not attacking the Blackwells—we are merely restoring the natural order of things. The Blackwells were never meant to be one of us. Their status as an elite family was not an inheritance but a privilege granted solely due to the brilliance of Cassius Blackwell."

He let that name hang in the air for a moment, gauging the reaction of the room before continuing. "With Cassius gone, their claim is void. We are simply reclaiming what should have never been given. And as one of the earliest founders of our unspoken rules, the Morgans have an obligation to uphold that order."

He took a deliberate step forward. "The Astors are with us. The Duponts. Even the Vanderbilts have joined our cause."

David stiffened at that, an involuntary reaction as he muttered, "No… Catherine…"

Thomas, standing beside him, cracked a small smirk at his brother's visible reaction, but Patrick remained impassive. His face gave away nothing as he simply asked, "And what do you want from us?"

Nathaniel's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Oh, nothing much, sir. Your vocal support would be more than enough."

Patrick's stare was unwavering. "You don't want the money seized?" he said flatly.

The smile on Nathaniel's face barely faltered, but Patrick caught the slight stiffening in his posture. "Or at the very least, blocked?" he pressed further.

Now the smile disappeared. For the first time, Nathaniel hesitated, his jaw tightening before he forced a calm demeanor back into place. "As expected from a Morgan." His voice was smooth, but the undercurrent of irritation was unmistakable. "I apologize for not being more direct sooner. Yes, that would be greatly appreciated. And rest assured, your help will not be forgotten when it comes time to divide the spoils."

"You—" David started, his voice sharp with anger, but Patrick simply stretched out a hand, silencing him with nothing more than a gesture.

Patrick's gaze never wavered from Nathaniel as he said, "From what I can tell, you already have the federal government on your side. You don't need our help with that."

Nathaniel shrugged, his easy arrogance sliding back into place. "That may be true, but we didn't want to go behind your back, sir. This is out of respect."

Patrick let out a short, amused exhale. "Cut the bull, boy. I've been in this game since before you were born. It's not about respect—you couldn't do it, could you?"

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. "The Blackwell money is out of the country," he admitted through gritted teeth. "It's in Switzerland. All efforts to get the Swiss government to comply have been… insufficient."

The room was dead silent for a moment.

Then Patrick Morgan laughed.

A deep, booming sound that filled the entire boardroom, echoing off the walls, shaking the air itself. The laughter of a man who had just confirmed everything he needed to know. It rolled over them, unsettling Thomas, enraging Nathaniel, and making David's lips twitch in satisfaction.

When Patrick finally stopped laughing, he leaned forward slightly, his presence even more imposing than before. "Rockerfeller boy… leave. And don't return."

The words hit like a hammer, reverberating in the room with the weight of finality.

Nathaniel's confident mask cracked, if only slightly. "Sir, I think you're mistaken."

"No," Patrick said, his voice dangerously low now. "You are mistaken. You think you can walk in here and throw your weight around like it means something? You think your name matters here? Your status? Well, boy, let me make something very clear to you." He leaned back, his eyes cold as ice. "In this house, only one name matters. And it isn't yours. Now get out."

Nathaniel's hands curled into fists at his sides. He swallowed down his anger, schooling his expression back into careful neutrality. But his voice was dark when he said, "I hope you don't come to regret this choice, Mr. Morgan."

Patrick didn't even blink. "Go."

Nathaniel turned sharply, storming out of the room, his presence vanishing like a ghost that had overstayed its welcome.

The moment he was gone, Thomas turned to his father, his frustration spilling out. "Father, why—"

Patrick's gaze snapped to him, cold and unforgiving. "You are a disgrace to the name you wield."

Thomas shut his mouth instantly, his face paling as he lowered his gaze. The rebuke cut deeper than any argument could.

Patrick then turned to David. "We will maintain neutrality. Publicly. But if the Blackwells need anything—anything—you will speed-track it. Make sure all our books are in order. Things are about to get bumpy."

David nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Dad."

Patrick watched as his youngest son stood, determination clear in his movements as he left to set the plan in motion. Thomas followed soon after, his shoulders tense, his mind undoubtedly racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, exhaling as his thoughts drifted back to Switzerland. From Alexander helping with the purchase of the bank. To the butler, Sebastian, and how he had contacted him in advance. How all of the Blackwell money had already been transferred under the Morgan bank there.

The kid saw this coming; he knew it all along Patrick realized. And if he's thinking like his father…

Then there was only one side worth betting on.

Special shoutout to the one and only Velsharoon, who just sent me a golden ticket while I was typing this chapter! Thank you so much! I was feeling weak but seeing that truly lifted my spirits. I appreciate it more than I can say—thank you, thank you!

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