I Was The School Joke Until I Bought The City

4 The Guillotine Room (Jayson Velasco POV)

"You are only here to operate the projector, Velasco, so do not breathe too loudly near the clients," Alistair Vance warned me as the glass doors of the panoramic executive boardroom slid open on the top floor.

I swallowed the lump of pure fire in my throat, keeping my arms pinned to my sides to hide how much my hands were shaking. "The data models on that flash drive are completely customized under my login profile... if there are any specific structural integration questions from the investors, I should be the one to clarify the calculations."

"Do not mistake my tolerance for an invitation to speak," Alistair shot back, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he adjusted his silver silk tie in the reflection of the glass table. "The clients are paying for the Vance brand and the reputation of Walter’s Regal... they do not care about the nameless ant who processed the raw data panels in the dark... sit in the corner and keep your mouth shut."

The massive, sun-drenched boardroom filled up within moments as senior partners took their plush leather seats. At the head of the table sat Silas Walter, the imposing, eagle eyed CEO whose reputation for utter corporate ruthlessness was legendary throughout Europe. Beside him was Marcus Thorne, the hot tempered tech billionaire investor whose funding could make or break the entire Mayfair skyscraper development.

"Let us skip the pleasantries and look directly at the ecological infrastructure," Marcus Thorne said, tapping his heavy platinum pen impatiently against the mahogany surface. "I am putting five hundred million pounds into this development, Silas... I want to see the carbon capture facade that your team promised would pass the new London zoning laws."

"Of course, Marcus," Silas Walter replied with a smooth, practiced smile, nodding toward my thieving boss. "Alistair has been working around the clock to finalize a proprietary architectural system that will completely change the skyline."

Alistair stepped into the light of the main projection screen, clicking his silver flash drive into the system. The display lit up with my 3D rendering... the exact eco sustainable skyscraper design I had stayed up until dawn finalizing. Seeing my structural masterpiece presented with Alistair's name emblazoned across the title card felt like a physical blade carving into my chest.

"As you can see from my personalized models, the organic airflow channels utilize the internal structural skeleton to filter carbon directly into the basement processing units," Alistair announced, beaming with unearned pride as the room murmured in absolute admiration.

"The structural load distribution looks incredibly balanced for something this ambitious," Marcus Thorne observed, leaning forward, his intense gaze studying the complex pillar configurations. "How did you manage to secure the stability without increasing the foundation mass?"

"It was a matter of rethinking traditional spatial physics," Alistair lied smoothly, gesturing vaguely at the screen. "I spent weeks recalculating the load balances myself to achieve this specific aerodynamic profile."

My blood boiled, the sheer emotional agony of his betrayal rushing through my veins like ice water. I looked across the room and saw Elena Vance standing near the door, her face completely pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and profound sorrow as she watched her father steal my identity. She looked at me, a silent, heartbreaking plea in her eyes that begged me to stay calm, but the suffocating weight of being erased was too much to bear.

"That is a lie," I said, the words cutting through the air of the room before I could stop myself.

The boardroom became instantly cold, the soft murmur of the executives dying out as every single pair of eyes turned toward my corner. Alistair’s face flushed a violent, furious red, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the presentation remote.

"Who said that?" Silas Walter demanded, his cold, aristocratic voice dripping with immediate danger as he glared across the table at me.

"Jayson Velasco... a junior novice assistant," Alistair interjected rapidly, his voice shaking with a dangerous mixture of panic and absolute rage. "He is clearly suffering from severe sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion from doing basic data entry... security will escort him out immediately."

"No, Mr. Walter," I insisted, standing up from my chair, my chest heaving as I looked directly at the CEO, completely bypassing my boss. "Those mathematical models are entirely my own... I spent the last month building that carbon capture system... the encryption key on that very file is linked directly to my basement terminal profile."

"Is this true, Alistair?" Marcus Thorne asked, his brow furrowing as his sharp eyes darted between us, his billionaire patience wearing thin.

"Of course not, Marcus!" Alistair shouted, stepping toward me with an aggressive, possessive fury that made several partners tense up. "He is a delusional nobody trying to extort credit for a masterpiece he could never comprehend... he stole a glimpse of my drafts and spun a fantasy."

Silas Walter stood up slowly, his towering presence instantly commanding total control over the room as he fixed his icy stare on my trembling form. "Velasco... if you cannot provide immediate, paper documentation right this second to prove your absurd claim, your employment here is terminated, and I will personally ensure our legal division files a massive corporate defamation lawsuit that will bankrupt your family for generations."

I froze, my throat completely dry as I realized the harsh, heartbreaking reality... Alistair had thrown away my plastic drive, and the source files on the main server were now overwritten with his executive master signature. I had nothing but my own voice.

"I... I can show you the initial sketches on my home terminal," I stammered, feeling the walls closing in on me as the trap snapped shut.

"We do not base multi million pound decisions on home sketches, boy," Silas Walter sneered, waving his hand toward the security guards entering the room. "Get this garbage out of my sight... you are fired, Velasco."

Alistair leaned in close as the heavy guards grabbed my arms, whispering with venomous satisfaction, "I told you that you were just a tool, you pathetic worm."