The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 737

"We're seeing extreme anomalies in our stock on the secondary market," Hackett said, his voice dropping.

"Someone is using highly evasive tactics to vacuum up a massive amount of our shares."

"You're incredibly well-connected. Have you caught wind of anyone making a play for us?"

Fitch went quiet for a moment. "I haven't heard anything of the sort."

"But look, the market has been sluggish lately. It's perfectly normal for capital groups to swoop in and buy the dip. Sloan Group has solid fundamentals. It's probably just an institutional investor establishing a position."

"This doesn't match institutional behavior." Hackett's tone was grim. "The transactions are heavily fragmented. They're intentionally dodging regulatory flags."

"Fitch, you know our cash flow is stretched thin right now. If our equity structure is compromised at a time like this..."

"I hear your concerns," Fitch interrupted, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "Tell you what, I know a few guys in mergers and acquisitions. I'll put out some feelers for you. However..."

His tone shifted, becoming regretful. "You know how brutal the market is right now. All my liquid capital is tied up in ongoing developments. I simply don't have the cash reserves to help you defend your stock price."

Hackett's stomach plummeted, but he forced himself to maintain his pride. "I understand completely. Just keep an ear to the ground for me."

Ending the call, Hackett stared at the jagged line on the monitor indicating the relentless accumulation of his company's shares. A bone-deep chill washed over him.

If the Sherwood family—their closest allies—were washing their hands of him, Hackett had absolutely no idea who else could save them.

Desperate, he took a deep breath, pulled up his contacts, and began dialing every high-powered connection he had, one by one.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Watson!"

"It's Hackett..."

"Yes, it's been far too long!"

Hackett forced a jovial tone, suffering through the agonizingly fake pleasantries before steering the conversation to his real motive.

"...Yes, actually, I was hoping to ask a small favor..."

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