Chapter 4 The Stock War

## Chapter 4: The Stock War

The Shaw Foundation Charity Auction was the pinnacle of Manhattan's social calendar—a place where eight-figure donations were announced with the casual flair of ordering coffee. Daisy had attended similar events before, but never with such personal stakes.

"You look tense," Melvin observed as their private elevator ascended to the rooftop venue. "The integration reports weren't that bad."

Daisy smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her midnight blue gown. "Just preparing my bid for the Monet. For the Woolridge executive lobby."

"Bold move, considering the starting price." His tone was light, but his eyes assessed her with that calculating gaze she'd come to recognize. He was gauging her, always measuring her reactions.

Tonight, she would give him something to measure.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a wonderland of wealth—champagne fountains, ice sculptures, and New York's elite in their finest attire. Daisy spotted Maisie immediately, radiant in gold silk that caught the light with every movement.

"I see your friend is here," Daisy remarked casually.

Melvin followed her gaze. "Maisie supports several charities. Her presence isn't surprising."

"Of course not." Daisy accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Nothing about Ms. Lancaster seems surprising anymore."

Before Melvin could respond, they were approached by Harrison Wells, head of the Shaw Industries board.

"Melvin, Daisy! Spectacular event as always." Wells beamed, his bow tie slightly askew. "Daisy, my dear, the integration reports are remarkable. The team says your leadership has made all the difference."

"Kind of you to say." She smiled, noting how Melvin stiffened slightly beside her—not enough for others to notice, but she'd become attuned to his subtle tells.

"Not kindness—fact." Wells lowered his voice. "Between us, several board members were skeptical about the Woolridge acquisition. Too much family sentiment, not enough hard numbers. But seeing you two work together..." He gestured between them. "The synergy is undeniable."

"Thank you, Harrison." Melvin placed his hand on Daisy's lower back—a practiced gesture they'd perfected. "If you'll excuse us, I see Senator Mitchell waiting to discuss the education initiative."

As they moved through the crowd, Daisy murmured, "The board was against the merger?"

"Some members," he admitted. "Nothing for you to worry about."

But it was something to worry about—or rather, something to use. Daisy filed the information away as they continued their circuit of the room, playing the perfect power couple.

An hour later, as the auction began, Daisy excused herself. "Powder room," she explained, touching Melvin's arm with calculated affection.

Instead of heading to the ladies' room, she slipped into an empty office overlooking the main event space. From here, she had a perfect view of Melvin, standing alone near the bar. Right on schedule, Maisie approached him.

Daisy watched their interaction with analytical detachment. Maisie placed her hand on Melvin's arm—familiar, intimate. They spoke closely, heads bent together. To anyone watching, they appeared to be former lovers reconnecting.

Then came the moment—Maisie leaned in, her lips approaching Melvin's. But instead of kissing him, she whispered something in his ear, just as they'd planned.

Even from a distance, Daisy could see the change in Melvin's posture—a sudden rigidity, a genuine surprise that broke through his carefully maintained façade. Maisie stepped back, said something else, then walked away, leaving him frozen in place.

Mission accomplished.

Daisy returned to the auction floor just as the bidding for the Monet began. Melvin found her immediately, his expression unreadable.

"Where did you disappear to?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Making connections," she replied vaguely. "The Shaw Foundation director has interesting thoughts on corporate philanthropy."

Before he could press further, the auctioneer's voice boomed across the room: "Next item: Lot 27, the maid service experience! One lucky winner will have their home cleaned by a celebrity volunteer in full uniform! All proceeds benefit children's education."

Scattered laughter and applause followed the announcement. Daisy raised her paddle. "Ten thousand."

Melvin looked at her sharply. "What are you doing?"

"Supporting charity." She smiled sweetly. "And securing insurance."

The bidding escalated quickly, but Daisy was relentless, eventually securing the prize for forty thousand dollars. As she signed the confirmation form, she specified: "I'd like to donate this prize to the Shaw Industries annual staff appreciation event. The celebrity volunteer can clean the executive bathrooms."

The coordinator laughed. "How... unconventional! I'll make a note."

Melvin's expression darkened as understanding dawned. "You're enjoying this."

"Just preparing for contingencies," she replied. "Speaking of which, I need to handle something at Woolridge tomorrow morning. Early meeting."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he simply nodded. "Don't forget the quarterly shareholders' presentation next week. Your presence is expected."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

---

The following morning, while Melvin dealt with the fallout from his interrupted "kiss," Daisy executed the next phase of her plan.

"Ms. Woolridge—I mean, Mrs. Shaw," Thomas Chen, Woolridge Electronics' CFO, looked nervous as she entered his office. "You wanted to discuss the integration financials?"

"Not exactly." Daisy closed the door behind her. "I want to discuss a confidential acquisition strategy."

For the next hour, she outlined her proposal. By the time she left, Chen looked both terrified and exhilarated.

"This is... aggressive," he said finally. "If Mr. Shaw discovers—"

"He won't," Daisy assured him. "Not until it's done."

Her next stop was her father's rehabilitation center. Andrew Woolridge had built his company from nothing, only to see it nearly destroyed by a combination of market forces and his own stroke. Today, he looked stronger—alert enough to understand what she was proposing.

"You're sure?" he asked, his speech still slightly slurred. "This is your marriage, Daisy."

"It's a business arrangement," she corrected gently. "One that's about to be renegotiated."

Her father studied her for a long moment. "You've changed."

Had she? Perhaps. Three months ago, she'd been desperate enough to sign away a year of her life to save her family's legacy. Now she was calculating how to turn that desperation into power.

"I learned from the best," she said, squeezing his hand. "Now, I need your signature on these proxy documents."

---

Over the next five days, Daisy operated in stealth mode. She contacted minor shareholders, arranged meetings with investment partners, and leveraged every relationship she'd built over her career. All while maintaining the perfect façade of dutiful wife and integration director.

The night before the quarterly shareholders' meeting, she made her final move—the most personal sacrifice in her strategic arsenal.

"Mr. Rothstein." She greeted the elderly jeweler in his private showroom after hours. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"For Andrew Woolridge's daughter? Always." He peered at her through thick glasses. "Though I must say, your request was unusual."

Daisy placed her wedding ring on the velvet-lined tray between them. The five-carat diamond caught the light, throwing prisms across the room.

"What is its market value?" she asked. "Not the insured value—the immediate liquidity value."

Rothstein examined the ring carefully. "For immediate cash? Perhaps seventy percent of market. Still... substantial."

"And if I need that cash by tomorrow morning?"

The old man looked up, his eyes shrewd behind his glasses. "Then you'd be desperate indeed, Mrs. Shaw. And I never take advantage of desperation."

"Not desperation," she corrected. "Strategy."

By midnight, the transaction was complete. The ring that symbolized her contractual marriage had been converted into the capital she needed for her most audacious move yet.

---

The quarterly shareholders' meeting of Shaw Industries commenced precisely at 9 AM in the company's state-of-the-art conference center. Daisy sat beside Melvin at the head table, the empty space on her ring finger concealed by her clasped hands.

If Melvin noticed the missing ring, he gave no indication. His focus was on the presentation, delivering projections and integration updates with his trademark precision. Daisy maintained her supportive smile, even as she tracked the minute hand of her watch.

At 10:17 AM, precisely as planned, her phone vibrated with a text from Thomas Chen: 【It's done. 51%.】

Daisy took a deep breath as Melvin concluded his presentation. "And now, if there are no further questions, we'll move to the voting portion of our agenda."

Harrison Wells stood. "Actually, Melvin, I believe we have one more item to discuss." He nodded toward the back of the room, where a technician was connecting a laptop to the projection system.

Melvin frowned. "This isn't on the agenda."

"It was added this morning," Wells explained, looking slightly uncomfortable. "A special presentation requested by several major shareholders."

Before Melvin could object, the lights dimmed, and the projection screen illuminated. For one horrifying moment, Daisy thought perhaps her plan had failed—that somehow, Melvin had outmaneuvered her again.

Then the video began.

There, in high-definition clarity, was Melvin Shaw—dressed in an elaborate French maid uniform, complete with lace trim and satin ribbons, scrubbing a toilet bowl with determined focus. The footage was clearly staged, professionally edited to look like security camera footage.

Gasps and muffled laughter rippled through the boardroom. Melvin froze, his expression cycling through confusion, shock, and finally, barely contained fury as he turned to Daisy.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed.

Before she could answer, the video cut to black, replaced by a simple slide: "SHAW-WOOLRIDGE HOLDINGS: PROPOSED RESTRUCTURING."

Harrison Wells cleared his throat. "It seems, Melvin, that there's been a significant shift in the company's ownership structure. Mrs. Shaw—or perhaps more accurately, Ms. Woolridge—would like to address the board."

Daisy stood, smoothing her skirt as she approached the podium. The room had fallen into stunned silence, all eyes fixed on her.

"Thank you, Mr. Wells." Her voice was steady, professional. "As of 10:15 this morning, I represent the controlling interest in Shaw Industries. Through a series of targeted acquisitions, proxy agreements, and leveraged positions, I have secured 51% of voting shares."

She paused, allowing the information to sink in. Melvin remained seated, his expression now carefully blank—the mask of a man calculating his next move.

"My first action as majority shareholder," Daisy continued, "is to propose a complete restructuring of the Shaw-Woolridge integration. Equal board representation, joint leadership, and a new corporate charter that protects both companies' legacies."

Murmurs broke out across the room. Daisy held up her hand for silence.

"The video you just witnessed was, of course, a simulation—a reminder of contractual consequences." Her gaze flicked briefly to Melvin. "In business, as in life, agreements should be honored. I trust that moving forward, all parties will remember this principle."

As she returned to her seat, the board erupted into discussion. Melvin leaned toward her, his voice low and dangerous.

"How?" Just one word, but it contained volumes.

Daisy met his gaze unflinchingly. "I used the emotional damages clause in our marriage contract to secure initial capital. Then I mortgaged my wedding ring for the final one percent I needed." She allowed herself a small smile. "You taught me well—always have leverage."

For the first time since she'd known him, Melvin Shaw appeared genuinely speechless.

"The board will vote now," Harrison Wells announced, bringing order back to the room. "All in favor of the restructuring proposal?"

Hands rose across the table—not all, but enough. The motion carried.

As the meeting adjourned into chaos, Daisy gathered her materials calmly. Melvin remained seated beside her, his expression now contemplative rather than angry.

"You've been planning this for weeks," he finally said. It wasn't a question.

"Since the night I caught you sleep-talking about Maisie." Daisy closed her portfolio. "Consider it my response to your loyalty tests."

His eyes widened fractionally—confirmation that she'd discovered his scheme.

"This isn't over," he said quietly.

"No," she agreed, standing to leave. "But the terms have changed. I'll see you at home, Mr. Shaw. After all, we still have a contract."

As Daisy walked out of the boardroom, head high and shoulders back, she felt a strange mixture of triumph and uncertainty. She had won this round decisively, securing her family's company and establishing herself as a force to be reckoned with.

But the game, as Melvin had pointed out, was far from over.