The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 43: Elyn: The Better Choice

The shareholders’ meeting and the press conference that followed were a disaster.

I still don’t know how I walked out of that building without completely falling apart. Unscathed would be too generous a word. Barely standing feels more accurate.

The shareholders and the board made it painfully clear they wanted nothing to do with me. If looks could vote, I would’ve been exiled before the first coffee break. But facts have a way of cornering even the most stubborn people.

Mr. Tyson arrived armed like a man marching into war—drafts of the will, documentation from the day it was first prepared, even a voice recording of Logan himself. Nico was the same, with him presenting psychiatric records that neatly dismantled Meryl’s claims. Logan hadn’t been unstable. He hadn’t been manipulated. The timeline didn’t lie.

By the end of it, the shareholders persuaded Meryl to drop the idea of contesting the will.

Not for my sake, of course.

Dragging the matter into court would only bleed Hansley Group dry publicly, financially, reputationally. Internal chaos was the last thing they could afford. Stock prices hated family scandal more than anything else. The decision wasn’t merciful, it was strategic.

So the will stood.

The press conference was worse.

I stood beside Director Bennet and a row of executives whose expressions hovered somewhere between resignation and suspicion as they formally announced that I was now the major shareholder of Hansley Group. My name echoed across the room like a provocation. I told the press the will was not under dispute, and that voting for the chairman position would be soon.

Cameras flashed. Questions flew.

I kept my spine straight, my chin lifted, and my face carefully neutral. I reminded myself I’d faced press conferences before, ones filled with accusations, rumors, and bloodthirsty headlines. This should’ve been familiar territory.

And yet, the business world felt colder than the entertainment industry ever had. There were no fans here. No sympathy. Just sharks calculating how much of me they could afford to swallow.

It was only after everything finally ended that Naomi found me a private space to talk to Mr. Tyson.

A glass-walled room overlooking the city.

"Was it true?" I ask the moment the door closes.

Mr. Tyson looks up from the folder in his hands.

"Tell me, Mr. Tyson," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Is it true that Logan knew about our unregistered marriage before he died?"

Earlier, when he entered the meeting flanked by one of Greg’s security men, I’d known immediately whose hand was behind it.

That’s why doubt is creeping in.

What if what Mr. Tyson told everyone wasn’t entirely true?

He looks credible. Professional. Controlled. But influence takes many forms, and I bet Greg is a master of influencing people.

And if Logan had known all along, if he truly had, why wouldn’t he have told me?

I don’t think he had any reason to hide it.

Mr. Tyson exhales.

"I lied."

My eyes widen.

"He didn’t know," he says quietly. He turns toward the window, his gaze drifting past the glass, past the city, as if the answer is somewhere out there. "But I said he did because it would make things easier for you."

"Why..."

Mr. Tyson doesn’t answer immediately.

"Because I know Logan would want that for you."

Mr. Tyson’s voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it, something almost tender.

"I’ve known him since he was a child," he continues. "To me, he was like a son." His mouth curves into a faint, tired smile. "I know your relationship didn’t look... conventional, especially for a married couple. But the two of you shared something, and you have known each other long before the arranged marriage."

I look down at my hands, fingers twisting together without my permission.

"There’s one thing I’m absolutely certain of," he says. "He didn’t want Meryl, Cora, or Candice anywhere near his company. That was never an option in his mind."

"He may not have loved you romantically," Mr. Tyson goes on, blunt in a way only someone old enough to stop pretending can be. "But I can assure you, he didn’t leave you the inheritance just because he believed you were his legal spouse."

My chest tightens.

"He gave it to you because he believed it was the better choice."

I shake my head, a small, helpless movement.

"Why would it be the better choice?" My laugh comes out thin, hollow. "If he didn’t even know our marriage was fake, then I don’t think I can—"

"Keep it."

It doesn’t sound like advice. No, it’s more like an order.

"If you honor whatever you had with Logan," he says, turning fully toward me now, "and if you have even an ounce of concern for the years of work he poured into that company, then you will keep it."

I open my mouth, but he isn’t finished.

"Do not give it to Meryl. She nearly destroyed Hansley Group a decade ago. That was why she was married off overseas, to remove her from the board, from the influence, from the damage she was capable of." His eyes sharpen. "Now she’s divorced and back, and she will do anything to make the company hers. Anything."

I’m at a loss for words.

"You must stop that."

I let out a breath and lean back against the table, staring at the glass wall and the city beyond it. All those buildings. All those decisions made by people who actually knew what they were doing.

"But how can I help the company?" I ask honestly. "I know the basics of business, sure... but this?" I gesture vaguely. "This is a massive corporation. I’m not qualified for this."

I laugh again, softer this time. Not self-deprecating.

Mr. Tyson smiles.

It’s knowing. Almost amused.

"Then perhaps," he says lightly, "you don’t have to do it alone."

I blink.

His eyes glint in a way that makes my stomach tighten.

"Help?" I repeat slowly. "You mean..."

"Hmm." He hums thoughtfully. "I haven’t seen that kid in a while."

My brow furrows. "Nico?"

"Yes." He nods. "He and Logan had their misunderstandings, but he’s not a bad man. You know that better than most." His gaze sharpens again. "And he’s very good at business."

I hesitate. The thought has crossed my mind before, but saying it out loud feels dangerous.

"Do you think it would be wrong," I begin carefully, "if I gave him half of the shares?" I swallow. "I don’t think it’s right that I hold forty-five percent when Logan’s brother got nothing. Why do you think Logan did that?"

"Not because he hated Nico," he says calmly. "Never that."

I look at him, waiting and curious.

"He wanted Nico to return by his own choice," Mr. Tyson continues. "Not because a will forced responsibility onto him. Logan believed Nico was content living away from the Hansleys. Giving him power he didn’t ask for would’ve been a burden, not a gift."

The older man smiles, softer now.

"But who knows?" he adds. "You might be the one who can convince him."