Erick kept the board members in their seats without raising his voice.
No one dared leave.
The room was silent, save for the rustle of financial reports on the mahogany table.
Eight of New York’s most powerful men sat stiffly around the table.
Some avoided his eyes.
Others watched him carefully, as if trying to reconcile the exhausted-looking man in worn clothes with the chairman they had once feared.
At the head of the table, Erick unwrapped a cheap egg-and-cheese sandwich from a corner store.
The paper crackled.
He took a slow bite and washed it down with tap water from a paper cup.
The smell of fried egg and cheap coffee seemed almost obscene in a room where lunch usually arrived on porcelain plates flown in from Manhattan’s most expensive restaurants.
Marcus stared at the sandwich.
“Are you actually eating that?”
Erick looked down at it.
“It’s breakfast.”
“It’s four in the afternoon.”
“Then it’s a late breakfast.”
Nobody laughed.
Erick took another bite.
He didn’t care.
“Marcus,” Erick said.
The older billionaire nearly jumped.
“Y-Yes… Chairman?”
Erick tapped the report.
“The two-hundred-million-dollar emergency facility for Laurent Corp.
Approve it or kill it?”
Marcus hesitated.
“There are contracts tied to that facility.
If we pull the money immediately, Laurent Corp could default within forty-eight hours.”
“Good.”
Marcus blinked.
“Chairman?”
“They’ve been stealing from us.
Why would I give them another forty-eight hours?”
Michael shifted uncomfortably.
“Victor believed the investment would protect our position.”
Erick finally looked at him.
“Victor believed a lot of things.” He tapped the report once.
“Most of them benefited Victor.”
“They’re thieves,” Erick interrupted calmly.
“They don’t deserve a bailout.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
“I understand.”
The boardroom doors opened, and Aria stepped inside.
She placed an encrypted satellite phone next to Erick.
“Chairman, Congressman Clarke has called six times.
He knows someone accessed the FBI backdoor through GD Tech.”
Erick’s eyes finally lifted.
That wasn’t supposed to be possible.
Not without leaving a trail.
“What exactly does he know?”
“Enough to be nervous.”
“Then let him stay nervous.”
The directors stiffened.
Aria continued as if she were discussing the weather.
“He’s requesting an immediate conversation.”
Erick didn’t look at the phone.
“Tell Congressman Clarke I’ll return his call.”
Aria left with the phone, leaving an unbearable silence.
The men exchanged uneasy looks: if a U.S.
congressman was waiting, how much influence had Erick been hiding?
Erick flipped a page.
His cracked smartphone vibrated on the table.
It was Dominique.
He answered and put her on speaker.
“Erick!” Her voice sliced through the room.
“Where are you?
I’ve called you thirty times.”
Erick leaned back.
“A little busy.”
“I’m done covering for you,” Dominique snapped.
“Vanessa’s divorce party starts at eight.
Martin will be there.
Wear something decent for once; I’m tired of everyone asking why my husband dresses like maintenance staff.”
Erick glanced down at his worn jacket.
Eight billion dollars of corporate authority sat behind him.
His wife was worried about his sneakers.
He almost laughed.
Around the table, several directors had lowered their eyes.
They were clearly trying not to listen.
Erick looked at the executives surrounding him.
“I’ll see what’s clean.”
“There’ll be a private gathering before the party,” she continued.
“Martin’s father pulled strings with the Defense Department.
The least you can do is kneel and apologize for making a fool of yourself.”
The board members looked uncomfortable.
They had spent years trying to meet the kind of politicians Martin Clarke could see effortlessly.
Erick looked at the satellite phone.
The congressman could wait.
His wife thought he needed permission to attend a party.
The contrast amused him.
“Tell Martin to enjoy his evening,” Erick said.
“Good,” Dominique replied, and the line disconnected.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Erick checked the clock.
Four o’clock.
He closed the report with a loud thud.
“It’s four,” Erick said, glancing from one director to the next.
“You have until one in the morning to fix Victor’s mistake.”
Michael stared at him.
“One in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nine hours.”
Erick nodded.
You have nine hours to find every transaction Victor buried, every account he touched, and every person he paid to look the other way.”
Michael’s face tightened.
“And if we can’t?”
“Then I’ll assume you were part of it.”
Nobody asked what happened after that.
They already knew better.
Except Michael.
He swallowed.
“And what exactly do you want us to do?”
“The Laurent bailout is cancelled,” Erick said.
He stood up.
“If Victor objects, he won’t be a shareholder for much longer.”
Erick buttoned his worn jacket.
“If anyone discusses this meeting outside these walls, you’ll wish Victor had taken the blame instead.”
He walked out without a threat or a dramatic farewell.
He didn’t need to.
The silence he left behind was heavier than any speech.
The executive floor had frozen.
Assistants stopped typing.
A young analyst nearly dropped his tablet.
No one made eye contact as Erick walked past them toward the elevator.
In the lobby, Clara straightened up the moment she saw him.
Her hands trembled.
Erick walked past her without a word.
Only after the revolving doors closed behind him did she finally breathe.
***
Outside, the Manhattan air was cold.
Ivan waited by a black sedan and opened the door.
“Done already?” Ivan asked as they pulled into traffic.
“I figured there’d be at least one body.”
“Not today.”
Ivan grinned.
“I’ll take that as progress.”
As they crawled through Midtown traffic, Erick looked out the window.
“Victor’s been treating Gerard Dominion like his personal bank.”
“How much?” Ivan asked.
“Two hundred million.”
Ivan whistled.
“That’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”
“Probably both,” Erick said.
Ivan’s grin disappeared.
“You want to hit them tonight?”
“I want them awake when it happens.”
“That’s cruel.”
Erick looked out the window.
“No.
Cruel would be letting them think they’re safe.”
“I’ll make it invisible,” Ivan promised.
After a minute, Ivan spoke again.
“Horizon Lounge tonight.
Martin Clarke reserved the penthouse.
He hasn’t visited alone once this month.”
Erick’s expression didn’t change.
Outside, Manhattan moved as usual.
People hurried to intersections and taxis honked.
None of them knew that Gerard Dominion had just changed hands again.
“So what’s the plan?” Ivan asked.
Erick watched the skyline.
“Let them celebrate.
They think tonight is just another party.”
A faint smile touched his face.
“It’s actually their last peaceful evening.”
“So what’s the plan?” Ivan asked.
Erick watched the skyline.
“Let them celebrate.”
Ivan glanced at him.
“That’s it?”
Erick looked down at Dominique’s message one last time.
His expression hardened.
“For tonight.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“Starting tomorrow, they’ll understand exactly who they’ve been humiliating.”