Rebirth of Vengeance

CHAPTER 6 — The Price of Exposure

“Don’t say anything.”

The lawyer’s voice crackled through the speakerphone, sharp and controlled. “Not a word. Not to the press. Not to anyone.”

He sat on the edge of the holding room bench, wrists free now, shirt wrinkled and stained where someone hadn’t bothered to clean the blood properly.

A paper cup of water rested untouched beside him. “I didn’t start the conversation,” he said calmly. “I just finished it.”

“That’s not how this works,” the lawyer snapped. “You assaulted a company executive in front of three hundred witnesses.”

“And fifty cameras,” he added helpfully.

A pause. “…Yes. That too.”

The door opened. She walked in. The lawyer went silent. “Put it on mute,” she said.

He didn’t. “She’s here,” he said into the phone. “We’ll talk later.”

He ended the call and stood. For a moment, neither of them spoke. She looked immaculate, new blazer, hair retouched, makeup flawless. Only her eyes betrayed her.

They were sharp with panic, calculating faster than she could fully hide. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she demanded.

“Yes.”

“You attacked my senior associate.”

“You let him threaten me.”

“That’s not.”

“You let him talk about the blind spot,” he cut in. “That’s new. He didn’t do that last time.”

Her breath stuttered. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re shaking,” he observed. “You always do when you realize you’re behind.”

She scoffed. “This is damage control. That’s all. Evan’s being treated. The board’s furious. The stock—”

“Dropped three point two percent,” he said. “Recovered one point one. Still volatile.”

She stared at him. “How would you know that?”

He shrugged. “I pay attention.”

“That’s impossible. Trading was halted.”

“And resumed four minutes ago.”

Her jaw tightened. She stepped closer. “You humiliated me.”

“I embarrassed you,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“You’ve put the company at risk.”

“Your company,” he said. “I don’t work there. Remember?”

She looked away briefly, gathering herself. “We can still contain this,” she said. “Mental health angle. Stress. Spousal instability. I already spoke to PR.”

“Of course you did.”

“You’ll issue an apology.”

“No.”

“You’ll agree to the evaluation.”

“No.”

“You’ll sign an NDA.”

“No.”

Her control cracked. “You don’t get to say no!”

“I already did.”

She exhaled sharply, then smiled, a thin, dangerous thing. “Then I’ll destroy you.”

“There it is,” he said softly.

“I’ll file a restraining order. Freeze joint assets. Drag this through court until you beg for quiet.”

“You’ll try,” he agreed. She narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re smarter than me?”

“No,” he said. “I think I’m earlier.”

She laughed bitterly. “You always say things like that when you’re trying to sound calm.”

“I am calm.”

“You broke a man’s face.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re calm?”

“I’m controlled,” he replied. “There’s a difference.”

She studied him now, really studied him. The way he stood. The lack of desperation. The absence of pleading.

Something unsettled her. “You don’t have anything on me,” she said. “Legally, financially, nothing.”

He smiled faintly. “Would you like to be wrong now, or publicly?”

Her smile vanished. “What do you think the board would say,” he continued, “if they learned about the shell consultancy routing bonus payouts?”

“That’s corporate structuring,” she snapped.

“Through a company that doesn’t exist,” he replied. “Registered under a proxy who died eight years ago.”

Her face went pale. “And the security contract?” he went on. “The one that quietly removed camera coverage from the rooftop maintenance corridor?”

She took a step back. “You approved that,” he said. “Personally. Three days before my… accident.”

“Stop,” she whispered.

“The CFO didn’t sign off,” he added. “You forged his authorization.”

“That’s insane.”

“You also altered the incident report,” he said calmly. “Changed the time stamp. You missed one backup.”

Silence pressed in. Her voice came out thin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know everything,” he said. Then corrected himself. “I know enough.”

She laughed, but it came out wrong. “You expect me to believe you suddenly turned into some kind of mastermind?”

“No,” he said. “I expect you to believe I stopped being blind.”

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then again. The color drained from her face. “What?” he asked gently.

“The board wants an emergency meeting,” she said. “They’re asking about the cameras.”

He nodded. “They will.”

She looked at him as if she were seeing a stranger. “You were never like this.”

“I was,” he replied. “You just trained me not to speak.”

She swallowed. “What do you want?”

He considered that. “Transparency,” he said. “Truth. And a clean divorce.”

She barked a laugh. “You think I’ll give you half?”

“I think you’ll give me what I’m owed,” he said. “And then some.”

“You don’t have proof.”

“I have time.”

Her composure fractured completely. “You’re threatening me,” she said.

“No,” he replied. “I’m informing you.”

She paced once, then stopped. Her voice dropped. “This isn’t about money.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s about power.”

“And you think you can take mine?”

“I already have,” he said. “You’re just finding out.”

Her eyes searched his face, desperate now. “You’re not acting like someone who just snapped,” she said slowly. “You’re acting like someone who planned this.”

“I didn’t plan it,” he replied. “I remembered it.”

That did it. Her breath caught. “…What?”

He held her gaze. The room felt smaller. “Tell me,” she said quietly. “Tell me right now.”

He said nothing. Her voice trembled. “What did you see before you died?”

The question hung between them, heavy, dangerous. And for the first time since the banquet, he felt it. Not rage. Not triumph. Fear.

Because answering it might cost him the control he was fighting to keep.