Chapter 4: Shadows in the Boardroom
The following morning, the executive boardroom of Vance Global Industries hummed with suppressed tension. The massive glass table reflected the gray, overcast sky hanging heavily over the financial district. Richard Vance sat at the head of the table, his silver hair impeccably combed, an expensive fountain pen spinning effortlessly between his manicured fingers. Around him, six senior board members murmured quietly among themselves, casting nervous sideways glances at Julian, who sat silently at the opposite end of the table.
Julian looked every bit the ruthless corporate heir, yet beneath his calm exterior, a tempest raged. He had spent the entire night reading Chen’s ledger, memorizing names, bank account numbers, and the dates of corporate hits disguised as tragic accidents. He knew that Vance had orchestrated his father’s downfall, and he knew that Vance believed the missing ledger was destroyed long ago.
"Julian," Vance began, his voice dripping with paternal warmth that never quite reached his cold, calculating eyes. "We were all deeply concerned about the unfortunate disturbance at the charity banquet last night. Some old vagrant causing a scene... security handled it, of course, but it raises questions about your current stress levels. Running a global conglomerate is no small burden. Perhaps it is time to discuss a temporary leave of absence."
The other board members nodded in synchronized agreement, their faces masks of polite corporate concern. They were vultures waiting for a sign of weakness, ready to devour Julian just as they had devoured his father twenty years ago. Julian did not flinch. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the glass table, his expression completely unreadable.
"My stress levels have never been lower, Richard," Julian said softly, the silence in the room instantly sharpening. He reached into his leather briefcase, pulled out a thick manila folder, and slid it across the glass surface. It stopped right in front of Vance’s pristine white cuffs. "In fact, I’ve never had more clarity regarding the future of this company."
Vance frowned, picking up the folder with mild annoyance. He flipped open the cover, expecting financial reports or restructuring proposals. Instead, his eyes landed on a photocopy of a thirty-year-old bank transfer, signed by his own hand, transferring funds to an offshore account linked to the old shipping cartel. The color drained instantly from Vance’s face, leaving his skin the shade of wet ash. The fountain pen slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the glass table.
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"What... what is this?" Vance choked out, his professional facade cracking down the middle.
"That," Julian replied, his voice steady and cold as winter steel, "is the first chapter of a very long story we are going to write together, Richard. And I suggest you read every single word before you ask me about a leave of absence again."
