2025-03-29 22:40:27
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362. Build From The Past
Van knew something was wrong the moment he entered his office Monday morning.The front desk staff barely looked at him. Two department heads who usually greeted him with warmth avoided his eyes. And when his assistant handed him the morning summary, her fingers trembled slightly.He read the top line and froze.“Leaked Documents Suggest Long Term Financial Misconduct Tied to Everest Holdings.”It had begun.“Source?” he asked.“No confirmation yet,” She said. “But whoever leaked it… they knew exactly what to release.”Van’s heart pounded as he scanned the summary. The documents were real. Years old reports showing questionable transfers under his father’s name. Several tied to campaign funding in foreign accounts. The report was vague enough not to indict Van personally —but damaging enough to create a storm.“They’re painting us all with the same brush,” he muttered.“That’s not the worst part,” She added, her face grim. “Andrew just gave a statement to the press.”Van slowly lifted
361. The Aftermath Of Courage
The press conference had ended hours ago, but the storm was just beginning.By the time Van returned to his office, his phone had already flooded with calls, texts, emails. Some were congratulatory— quiet pats on the back from those who’d long suspected something was wrong. Others were… less friendly.One board member threatened resignation. Another accused him of betrayal. Anonymous social media accounts started whispering about skeletons and scandals. A few even hinted that Van’s father hadn’t acted alone.Van stood in his office, tie loosened, shirt collar open. He stared out at the gray sky with the phone still buzzing in his hand.He had expected backlash. But not like this.His assistant stepped in quietly. “Sir, the phones haven’t stopped. Channel 8 wants a live interview. The Tribune just released an article about it — favorable, surprisingly. And your mother called three times. She said… and I quote… ‘You’re either about to change the world or destroy what’s left of us.’”Van
360. Rooftop And A Conference
The Westmont building had been abandoned for years.Once a symbol of high rise ambition, the skeletal structure now loomed over the edge of the city like a forgotten ghost. Its scaffolding was rusted, its elevators inoperable, and its name had long since been scraped from the marble lobby wall. Yet tonight, it would serve as the setting for a conversation that might alter the course of Van’s life.He arrived just before midnight, dressed in a simple dark coat and boots. No entourage. No driver. Just him and the city, veiled in fog.The security gate had been left open —deliberately, no doubt. He pushed through, boots crunching softly on gravel and broken glass. The building was quiet except for the wind moaning between the steel girders.Van climbed thirteen flights of cracked concrete stairs before reaching the roof.Andrew was already there.He stood near the edge, hands in the pockets of his long coat, his posture casual. But Van knew better. His brother was never casual about anyt
359. Preparing
The fallout came slowly. Not in explosions or boardroom outbursts, but in carefully worded emails, strategic silences, and a subtle shift in how people looked at Van when he walked the halls of the company. By the end of the week, three long serving board members had requested private meetings. Two of them wanted clarity on what Van meant by "cooperating with authorities." The third —Mr. Halston, one of the older shareholders who’d known Van’s father personally— told him plainly: “You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly reckless.” Van had smiled tightly and replied. “Maybe both.” By Friday, it was raining again. It seemed to be raining a lot the past few days. Van stood in his office, staring at the storm outside while his legal team drafted the first phase of the transparency review. His phone buzzed intermittently, but he ignored it. His mind was already five steps ahead —calculating, navigating, bracing. There was still no word from Andrew. No reply to texts. No retur
358. Brothers At Crossroads
The private conference room on the forty fifth floor was empty except for Van and the tension hanging thick between him and Andrew. The blinds were drawn. The overhead light buzzed softly. Van sat at the head of the glass table, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked calm— measured. But inside, his blood was hot with questions. Andrew, ever composed, arrived a few minutes late. He wore a charcoal suit, no tie, and carried the faint scent of expensive cologne. His expression was unreadable as he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. “You said it was urgent,” Andrew said, his voice neutral. “It is,” Van replied. He didn’t offer a handshake. Andrew took the seat across from him. “Alright then. Let’s hear it.” Van didn’t waste time. “I had the internal audit team dig into the older subsidiary accounts. Specifically the ones you restructured five years ago. The shell companies. The trusts. The sudden dissolving of part
357. The Weight Of The Truth
Van stood before the towering windows of his office, the city below awash in a gray drizzle that blurred the skyline. From up here, everything seemed so distant —quiet and orderly. But beneath the polished surface of the glass and steel, things were unraveling. He could feel it.It had been a month since the meeting with his family. Andrew had grown unusually distant since then, barely answering Van’s calls and avoiding internal meetings under the guise of travel or back -to -back commitments. Van had let it slide for a while— he didn’t want to push too hard —but the silence was starting to weigh on him.This morning’s reports had only made it worse. A quiet investigation he had launched into the company’s archival records revealed a number of discrepancies in the years Andrew had handled strategic partnerships. Most of the flagged deals were with now defunct shell companies, structured in a way that ensured they flew under radar. There wasn’t anything definitive yet. But Van trusted
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