The trouble wasn't that they wanted blood. The trouble was that they were smart enough to plan it three moves ahead, like some meth-addicted Bobby Fischer. Anticipating their next strike and moving before they could execute—that was the real chess game here.
They had their precious 20% of shares now. Cute. A nice little participation trophy. But twenty percent wasn't nearly enough to topple Charlotte. Daddy Dead Thompson—God rest his strategic, capitalist soul—had locked 75% of the company in family hands. Which meant no amount of Wall Street rats with cocaine habits and overpriced Rolexes and Bugatti's could just Venmo their way to control.
So, what the fuck could be their next move?
