I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

The door to the room opened, breaking the heavy silence that had followed his exchange with his mother. Alexander had sat down, the weight of the argument still lingering in the air. His mother's words were always sharp and cutting, but today, they felt like nothing more than tiresome repetitions. The idea that she might actually believe he could fail was almost laughable. He had already built an empire, and she didn't understand that. But there was no time to dwell on her doubts now.

As the men filed into the room, four behind and the crown prince leading the way, Alexander stood up, his mood still slightly strained but now shifting into something more controlled, cold even. The power dynamics in the room were about to change, and he wanted to set the tone from the start. His icy black eyes swept over the group as they entered, each man visibly tense, but he was already prepared. Without a second of hesitation, he extended his hand toward the crown prince, offering a greeting that was deliberate, yet dignified.

"Welcome, Your Highness," Alexander said, his voice smooth, calculating.

The prince's eyes briefly flickered to the offered hand, and the reaction from the advisors standing behind him was immediate and palpable. They shifted uncomfortably, and an unspoken tension filled the air. Alexander's gesture was undeniably respectful, thoughtful even. He had stood up to greet them, showing deference to the prince, as was customary in most meetings of such nature. But that was the problem. In Saudi Arabia, as with many other hierarchical cultures, the person of higher status was expected to initiate the greeting. It was their right to dictate when and how the other party would acknowledge them. A lower-status person would never extend a hand first; it was simply not the protocol.

For a brief moment, the advisors exchanged uneasy glances, trying to process the situation. Alexander was a highly successful businessman, and businessmen of his caliber were known for doing their homework, for understanding the subtleties of different cultures and expectations. They were willing to overlook the possibility of ignorance on his part, because they didn't believe that was the issue. No, Alexander Blackwell wasn't ignorant. He was too calculating for that.

As they studied him, the tension in the room seemed to thicken. His posture was flawless, his gaze unyielding, and despite the cultural faux pas that he had just committed, there was an undeniable power emanating from him. The advisors could sense that this had been no accident. It wasn't simply a lack of understanding on his part; it was a clear and purposeful move to establish dominance, to assert that, in this room, he held the power.

They began to reconsider their initial assumptions. They had come into this room with a certain level of expectation—after all, the prince had Practically saved Alexander, allowing him to stay in Saudi Arabia, keeping him out of the hands of the United States justice system. But seeing Alexander in person, standing there with his hand outstretched, they couldn't help but feel a deep sense of discomfort. He was deliberately pushing boundaries. He was trying to assert that, despite everything, despite his current situation, he was still in control.

And that was the issue. A week ago, even a few days ago, this situation would have been acceptable. Alexander, head of the Blackwell family, a powerful player in international business, could have been the one to offer the handshake, and no one would have batted an eye. But in the current political climate, with the prince and his advisors so deeply involved, the situation was far more complex.

The prince, who, thanks to his country's vast and overflowing resources, had crossed paths with his fair share of elite family members, had grown accustomed to being treated as lesser by them. Time and time again, these powerful families had looked down on him, as if his status was only temporary, a product of circumstance rather than his own merit.

It was a feeling he had always loathed, and one he despised with every fiber of his being. He had come to this meeting expecting the usual dynamic—the Blackwells, practically at his mercy, would show the proper deference, offering him the respect he was due. But now, as he stood before Alexander Blackwell, he realized the full extent of the Blackwell family's mindset. This wasn't just an oversight or a mistake.

It was a deeply ingrained attitude, one that ran through their very core. The Blackwells, it seemed, believed that no matter the situation, no matter the power he held, they were the ones who would set the terms.

The prince's jaw clenched as he looked down at the hand. He had never been one to tolerate arrogance from anyone, let alone from someone who had been involved in such a scandal. He had already been disrespected in many ways, from the heavy-handed security measures to the extended wait upon his arrival. This, however, was the final straw. He had expected gratitude, or at the very least, some acknowledgment of the favor he had extended by allowing Alexander to remain in the country. Instead, he found himself staring at a man who was playing a game he had not anticipated.

His hands itched to walk out of the room. It would have been easy. All he had to do was turn away, give the signal, and the embassy could handle the rest. The United States would take their citizen back, and the delicate balance of power would tip once again. But the prince's pride kept him rooted to the spot, and with a deep breath, he took Alexander's outstretched hand. The handshake was firm, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes locked with Alexander's, and despite the coldness of the gesture, something passed between them—a mutual understanding that this meeting was not just business. It was a test.

"It's good to be here," the prince said, his voice clipped, his words weighed down by the tension in the room.

Behind him, the advisors exchanged dark looks. They could feel the undercurrent of anger, the silent challenge in the air. Alexander's actions had set the tone for the meeting, but it was clear that neither side was ready to yield.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, each person processing the weight of what had just transpired. Alexander didn't break the silence; instead, he observed the prince and his entourage carefully, noting their body language, their hesitations, their discomfort.

"Shall we proceed?" he asked, his eyes still locked onto the prince's. "I'm sure we have much to discuss."

The prince didn't respond immediately. His mind was still whirling, still processing the audacity of the situation, but with a tight-lipped nod, he motioned for his advisors to follow suit. He would not let this man get the better of him—not yet, at least.

As the advisors slowly took their seats, the tension in the room remained palpable. This was not going to be a straightforward negotiation. Alexander Blackwell had made that abundantly clear.

Author's Note

I know I mentioned this would be my last update here, but I just wanted to clarify a few things before I go. First, I understand that things may feel like they're moving slowly, and I sincerely apologize—that's never my intention. The next two chapters should wrap up this meeting, so things will pick up pace from there.

If you have any questions or if anything is unclear, please feel free to leave a comment below. I'm always happy to help.

Also, I realize there may be some confusion, but the counterattack has been underway for a while now. You'll start seeing it more clearly in the upcoming chapter.

I also want to mention that soon, Alexander will be visiting different countries and engaging in various activities. If anything I write offends your country, culture, or anything else, please know that it's not intentional. I'm just trying to stay true to the plot.

I don't have any political biases in my writing, and neither does Alexander. He moves according to his plans, and he's not tied to any political party, nation, or ideology. I'm saying this because I know some events in the story may stir strong feelings, but please understand it's not meant to offend anyone.

Special shout-out to VipeXGaming for sending me two golden tickets. I sincerely appreciate your support, and I'm truly grateful.

Lastly, I want to apologize for the last couple of chapters. I wasn't entirely happy with how they turned out, especially today's update. My work has been incredibly hectic lately, and I haven't had as much time to write as I would like. As a result, some of my other books haven't been updated as frequently either. But because of your support, I've been pushing through and continuing to update here.

Thankfully, starting tomorrow, my workload will ease up, and I plan to use that time to deliver the content you've been waiting for.

Thank you all so much for your continued support. I truly appreciate it.