Looking for relatives: I acquired my mother’s billion-dollar enterprise

Gezhi Group’s boardroom was heavy with tension, the kind that hung in the air like a storm ready to burst. At the head of the table sat Song Yazhi, her commanding presence amplified by her sharp gaze and the aura of authority she had cultivated over decades. But today, even the Iron Lady seemed weighed down, her expression stoic yet betraying a faint shadow of weariness.

Fifty-two years had gifted her wisdom, but the endless battles of corporate warfare had etched faint lines on her face. She was still striking, but her eyes carried the burden of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of high-stakes business.

Before her, the boardroom erupted into chaos. Directors hurled accusations at each other, voices rising like a cacophony of discord. It was a battlefield of words, and none were willing to admit defeat.

“Director Yang!” one of her loyal vice presidents, Zhou Cheng, barked, pointing an accusing finger at a portly man seated across the table. “Don’t play innocent! Are you really going to sit there and claim the Sumitomo Group hasn’t contacted you? Who do you think you’re fooling?”

Yang’s face flushed crimson, and he shot back with venom. “Oh, cut the self-righteous act, Zhou! You’re no saint either! Who’s to say you didn’t sell your shares to the Sakurajima devils? Maybe you’re the one lining your pockets while pretending to be loyal!”

Their argument was a wildfire, igniting murmurs and whispers among the other directors. Most of them looked uneasy, shifting in their seats as they avoided eye contact with the Iron Lady, who watched them with an expression carved from stone.

It was clear. The room was divided into two camps: those trying to hide their betrayal and those waiting silently to see what their formidable leader would do.

“A hostile takeover,” someone muttered bitterly. “This is exactly what this is—a blatant, calculated move to destroy us.”

“This morning, Bank of China Real Estate sold all its shares to the Sumitomo Group. Eleven-point-seven percent, gone!” another exclaimed, his voice trembling with anger and fear. “Do you know how much they paid? A fifty-percent premium! Those devils are playing the long game, and they’ve got the money to back it up.”

Zhou Cheng spat, “And what were the market intelligence team doing? We were blindsided! They said the Azure Foundation was eyeing us, but where did the Sumitomo Group come from? How could we let this happen?”

The name “Sumitomo” hung over the room like a curse. One of the most powerful conglomerates from Sakurajima, Sumitomo’s ambitions were no secret. Their dominance in the global electronics and manufacturing industries had made them a force to be reckoned with. But this move—to acquire Gezhi, one of China’s leading appliance giants—was an aggressive step that no one had foreseen.

Song Yazhi’s secretary, Song Ziwei, stood quietly by her mother’s side, diligently recording every chaotic word, her pen flying across her notebook. When the noise reached a crescendo, she placed her notes before her mother, whose lips pressed into a tight line as she skimmed the details.

Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she set the papers down. Then, she stood, and the room fell into silence as her presence demanded attention.

“I just received updated figures,” she said coldly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “The Sumitomo Group now holds at least fifteen percent of Gezhi’s shares. The Azure Foundation controls another twelve percent.”

The room erupted. Gasps, murmurs, and outright panic rippled through the boardroom like a tidal wave.

“Enough!”

Her voice slammed into them like a thunderclap, silencing the chaos. She leaned forward, her piercing eyes sweeping over the room, pinning each director in place.

“Let’s stop pretending,” she said, her tone icy and unforgiving. “Don’t insult my intelligence by acting shocked. Tell me, who here has sold their shares?”

The silence was deafening.

She scoffed, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “Fifty percent premiums. Tempting, isn’t it? You’ve made your choice. You’ve chosen to look down on me, to doubt my ability to lead us through this storm. You think I’ll lose, don’t you?”

Her voice cracked ever so slightly, but her steel-like resolve remained unshaken. “You’ve betrayed not just me, but Gezhi. This company fed you, built you, made you. And yet, when it mattered most, you sold your loyalty for a handful of silver.”

Her gaze landed on Chen Jian, a small shareholder with a perpetually oily demeanor. He smirked, refusing to meet her eyes, but his arrogance was palpable.

“You sold, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

Chen Jian shrugged, a shameless grin spreading across his face. “Business is business, Ms. Song. You can’t blame me for being practical. What do you expect us to do? Gezhi is your legacy, not ours. You’re the one with everything to lose, not us.”

The room held its collective breath.

“Five years ago,” Song Yazhi said, her voice trembling with emotion, “you came to me, a desperate man drowning in debt. I gave you ten million out of my own pocket to save you. And this—this is how you repay me?”

Chen Jian chuckled, unbothered. “What can I say? Times change. Sentiment has no place in business.”

“Get out,” she hissed, her composure cracking. “You’ve sold your shares. You’re no longer part of Gezhi. Security, escort him out!”

As the guards dragged him away, Chen Jian shouted over his shoulder, “You’ll lose, Song Yazhi! You can’t fight them. You’re done for!”

The remaining directors sat frozen, too shocked to speak. Song Yazhi’s glare swept across them, her disappointment cutting deeper than any words.

“We’re done here,” she announced, her voice hollow. “This meeting is adjourned.”

She swept out of the room with Ziwei by her side, her confidants trailing after her.

The news spread like wildfire. Social media platforms exploded with headlines: “Gezhi’s Collapse Imminent?” “Sumitomo Group Tightens Its Grip.” The Iron Lady’s once-unshakeable reign was now the center of a storm.

But far from the chaos, in the tranquil garden of Courtyard No. 3, Qin Yuan sipped his black tea, unbothered by the noise of the outside world. His phone rested on the table before him, and with a calm, deliberate motion, he picked it up and dialed an international number.

“Vivian,” he said, his voice steady and commanding. “Increase the acquisition efforts. I don’t care what it takes. Buy more shares of Gezhi. The time has come.”

The gears of war were turning.