?Chapter 1208:


    Lance didn’t raise his voice, but the quietmand in his tone silenced the room. “Mr. Briggs, this is not interference. This is the execution of a legally binding agreement signed by your own chairman. I’m simply carrying out thew. Please don’t make this difficult for us.”


    He let his gaze sweep across the tense faces around the table, pausing briefly on Howe before continuing.


    “Effective immediately, all documents, data, and prototypes rted to these projects will be sealed and transferred to a military vault for safekeeping. Until Mr. William Briggs is officially located, no one may ess them without direct authorization.”


    The wordsnded like a thunderp—carrying power and weight far beyond anything Howe could counter with corporate bluster.


    Howe’s breath came fast, ragged with rage. He had spent months weaving his n, waiting for the perfect moment to consolidate power—only for that moment to slip through his fingers, stolen by a use buried in William’s foresight.


    He red at Lance, his voice trembling. “General Carter, do you understand what taking these projects means?”


    Lance’s eyes hardened. “Mr. Briggs, I represent the state. If you object, you may file a formalint with my superiors. But until then, I suggest you cooperate.”


    He nodded once—sharp, final.


    Two officers stepped forward, their movements disciplined and precise. They said nothing, but their silent presence alone cooled the air in the room.


    Howe’s teeth ground together. He looked up at the projected screen again—the undeniable signatures, the seals, the authority stamped in ink that not even he could rewrite.


    He knew the military wasn’t like his business rivals. Their power and enforcement weren’t something he could confront head-on.


    Resistance would be suicidal.


    Finally, after a long pause, he spat the words out through clenched teeth. “Fine. If that’s what the agreement states, I’ll cooperate.”


    Lance inclined his head. “Thank you for your understanding.”


    g ? ln σ ν?? ?s, where stories thrive


    Under the watchful eyes of the board, Lance’s team began coordinating with the key technical staff William had once handpicked himself.


    Box after box of documents—blueprints, research notes, prototype reports—were sealed into tamper-proof containers stamped Confidential.


    Every movement was methodical, every signature ounted for. No one dared speak above a whisper. Within an hour, the convoy of armored vehicles was gone, taking with it the beating heart of Briggs Group’s most valuable work.


    As the heavy conference room doors shut behind thest officer, the silence that followed was suffocating.


    Howe mmed his fist against the table, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.


    He had underestimated William. If William hadn’t personally reached out to Lance back then, the military would never have been involved.


    Had William seen thising?


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