Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 257: Returning to Work

November 10, 1897

Newport, Amerathia

The first light of dawn crept over the Atlantic, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and crimson. The wind carried the scent of salt through the open windows, rustling the curtains gently. Inside the house, the world was quiet, save for the rhythmic breathing of those still asleep.

Matthew Hesh stood on the balcony, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A steaming cup of coffee sat untouched on the small wooden table beside him. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, his mind already miles away, back in Washington.

He had allowed himself one day—just one—to be a husband and father again. But now, reality was waiting.

Behind him, the bedroom door creaked open. Amber stepped out, her robe wrapped loosely around her, hair still tousled from sleep. She leaned against the doorway, studying him.

"You’re leaving today," she said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Matthew sighed. "I have to."

Amber stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his back. "I know," she murmured. "I just wish you didn’t."

He turned, pulling her into his arms. "I’ll come back soon."

Amber searched his face. "Promise?"

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Matthew hesitated for just a second, but then nodded. "I promise."

She didn’t press him further. They both knew his responsibilities wouldn’t wait.

Washington, D.C. – The White House

By midday, Matthew Hesh was back in the capital. The city was still in the process of healing—streets were lined with construction crews, scaffolding covered damaged buildings, and the smell of smoke still lingered faintly in the air. But despite the scars of the recent war, life had returned. People bustled about, determined to rebuild, to move forward.

As his car approached the White House, Matthew’s mind shifted gears. The brief peace he had enjoyed with his family was over. Now, he was President Hesh again.

Collins was waiting for him at the entrance, already flipping through a stack of reports. "Good to have you back, Mr. President," he said, falling into step beside him as they walked inside.

"Give me the highlights," Matthew said, not bothering with pleasantries.

Collins didn’t hesitate. "Reconstruction efforts are progressing, but we’re behind schedule in some areas due to supply shortages. The treasury is working on a relief package, but the economic damage is deeper than we thought. Public confidence is high, but there are pockets of unrest—people who think we aren’t doing enough, or that we’re doing too much."

Matthew nodded, taking it all in. "And the remnants of The Order?"

Collins’s expression darkened. "We’ve rounded up most of their leadership, but some operatives are still unaccounted for. Intelligence suggests they’re lying low, possibly reorganizing. The concern is that they might have sympathizers in the government."

Matthew’s jaw tightened. "Do we have names?"

Collins hesitated, then handed over a file. "Preliminary suspects. Some of them hold minor positions in law enforcement, a few in local governments. Nothing concrete yet, but it’s a start."

Matthew flipped through the file as they entered the Oval Office. "We need to root them out before they get the chance to strike again."

Collins nodded. "Already working on it. I’ve got Whitaker drafting new security protocols. Speaking of which, he’s waiting for you in the Situation Room."

Matthew set the file down. "Let’s go."

Attorney General Whitaker stood at the head of the long table, briefing a room full of top military and intelligence officials. Maps and reports were spread out across the surface, detailing the latest findings on The Order’s remaining operatives.

As Matthew entered, the room fell silent.

"Mr. President," Whitaker greeted, motioning to a seat. "We’ve been going over intelligence reports regarding The Order’s remnants."

Matthew sat, his gaze scanning the room. "What do we know?"

A military officer, General Monroe, cleared his throat. "Sir, while most of their leadership has been captured or killed, their network isn’t entirely dismantled. We believe some factions are still operating in the shadows, possibly waiting for an opportunity to strike again."

Matthew exhaled sharply. "Where are they concentrated?"

Whitaker tapped a folder. "Scattered across the country. Some fled to rural strongholds, others have blended back into society. We’ve identified a few possible meeting points, but we need more time to confirm."

Matthew nodded. "Then we need to increase pressure. We can’t afford to let them regroup."

Collins interjected. "We also have to consider the political angle. If we come down too hard, some will accuse us of overreach. We need to be precise—surgical."

Matthew’s expression remained unreadable. "I don’t care about optics. I care about ensuring this never happens again."

The room was silent for a moment before Whitaker spoke again. "We can authorize expanded intelligence operations. Infiltrate what remains of their network, track down anyone who’s still loyal to them."

Matthew leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "Do it. I want results by the end of the month."

"Yes, sir."

The day had been long, filled with meetings, briefings, and decisions that would shape the nation’s future. As the last of his advisors left, Matthew sat back in his chair, exhaling heavily.

The weight of the presidency had never felt heavier.

His eyes drifted to the framed photo on his desk—Amber holding Sophia, Maverick standing proudly beside them.

He had barely been home a full day before being pulled back into the fray.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Collins entered. "Long day?"

Matthew smirked tiredly. "You could say that."

Collins hesitated before stepping closer. "Sir, if I may… You did the impossible. You survived the coup. You won the election in a landslide. The people believe in you."

Matthew leaned back in his chair. "And yet, the fight isn’t over." Find adventures at novelbuddy

Collins sighed. "It never will be. Not completely. But you have the chance to rebuild something stronger than before."

Matthew looked at him for a long moment before nodding. "Then let’s make sure we do it right."

Collins smiled. "We will, sir."

As Collins left, Matthew turned his gaze back to the city outside. Washington was still scarred, but it was healing.

And so was he.

Tomorrow, the fight would continue. But tonight, he allowed himself one brief moment of satisfaction.

Amerathia had survived.

And under his leadership, it would thrive.