Strike Back Of The Secret Billionaire

005

The morning news played on three screens in Brent's office. Every major network was covering the same story: Chen Industries' collapse.

He didn't bother turning up the volume. The headlines told him everything he needed to know.

"Chen Industries Stock Plummets 78% in Historic Crash"

"Sarah Chen: From Corporate Darling to Wall Street Catastrophe"

"The Assistant Who Brought Down a Billion-Dollar Empire"

His real office was nothing like the cramped space Sarah had given him. No more pretending to love that squeaky IKEA chair or the desk with the wobbly leg. Now he sat in hand-crafted Italian leather, surrounded by art worth more than Sarah's annual salary. Well, her former salary.

James walked in without knocking. They'd worked together too long for formalities.

"Sir, you're going to enjoy this." James held up his tablet. "Sarah just tried to access her corporate accounts. All of them. They're frozen."

Brent smiled. "How much does she have left?"

"Her trust fund's worth about two million. Sounds like a lot until you realize her monthly expenses are around hundred and fifty thousand." James swiped through some documents. "She's already tried calling her bank. Twice. They're not taking her calls anymore."

"Funny how that works." Brent remembered how Sarah used to wave her black card around, making sure everyone saw it. "What about her fancy penthouse?"

"Turns out it was company property. You own it now." James paused. "Along with her car, her vacation homes, and pretty much everything else she thought was hers."

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Walker? The Chen Industries board members are here. Again. Third time this week."

"Make them wait." Brent turned back to James. "How's our friend Marcus doing?"

Marcus had been Sarah's favorite yes-man. The one who laughed the loudest at her jokes about Brent's "cheap" clothes and "basic" lifestyle. The one who'd started the office pool on how long it would take Sarah to fire her "charity case" assistant.

James grinned. "He tried to interview at Goldman Sachs yesterday. They showed him out before he finished saying his name. Turns out nobody wants to hire the guy who helped Sarah Chen run her company into the ground."

"And the others?"

"Patricia from HR? The one who helped Sarah block your vacation requests? She's working at a mall now. Kevin from Finance, who used to 'accidentally' leave you off important emails? His wife left him after their assets got frozen in the investigation."

Brent nodded slowly. He'd kept detailed notes on everyone who'd joined in Sarah's little power games. Now they were learning what it felt like to be on the other side.

His phone lit up with another news alert. This one made him laugh out loud.

"What is it?" James asked.

"Sarah tried to get into Le Bernardin last night. You know, that restaurant where she used to make me wait in the car while she had dinner with clients?" Brent showed James the photo. "They turned her away. Said they were fully booked. Then seated someone else at 'her' table while she watched."

"Karma's got a mean streak."

"Speaking of karma..." Brent pulled up the security feed from Chen Industries' lobby. Sarah was there again, trying to get past security. Her Chanel suit – probably one of her last – was wrinkled. Her perfect hair was a mess. She was waving her phone around, screaming about how she was still the CEO.

"Should we do something about that?" James asked.

"No. Let her make a scene. Every viral video, every public meltdown, every desperate attempt to prove she's still important – it all helps our cause."

His computer chimed with an email notification. This one was from Thomas Liu.

"He's officially pulling out of every deal with Chen Industries," Brent said, scanning the email. "Says he can't trust a company that let an assistant outsmart their CEO."

"Ouch."

"It gets better. He's moving all his business to us. And bringing his friends with him." Brent forwarded the email to legal. "Sarah spent years building those relationships. All those fancy dinners, all those golf games, all those times she made me carry her bags while she networked. Gone."

The intercom buzzed again. "Sir? The board is getting restless."

"Fine. Send them in."

They shuffled into his office like scolded children. These were the same people who'd sat silently through two years of Sarah's abuse. Who'd watched her humiliate him and said nothing. Who'd convinced themselves they were better than him because they had corner offices and family names.

Now they couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Gentleman. Ladies." Brent didn't offer them seats. "I assume you're here about the emergency shareholder meeting?"

Harold Chen, Sarah's uncle, stepped forward. "We've voted to remove Sarah as CEO."

"Little late for that, isn't it?"

"We're prepared to offer you full control of the company." Harold's voice shook. "No conditions. No restrictions. Just... please. Save what's left."

Brent walked to his window. From here, he could see the Chen Industries building. The name was still on the side, but not for long. By tomorrow, workers would be taking down those giant letters, erasing the last trace of the Chen family's legacy.

"You know what I remember most about working there?" Brent said quietly. "Not the insults. Not the humiliation. What I remember is how none of you ever spoke up. You saw how Sarah treated people. You knew it was wrong. But you did nothing."

"We were afraid," someone said.

"And now I own everything you were afraid of losing." Brent turned back to them. "The company isn't worth saving. I'm breaking it up and selling it off piece by piece. By next quarter, Chen Industries won't exist."

"You can't—"

"I can. I will. And you're all going to watch it happen." He pressed a button on his desk. "Security will show you out. Oh, and Harold? Tell your niece to stop sleeping in her car outside my building. It's getting pathetic."

After they left, James stayed behind. "Was that too harsh?"

"No." Brent checked his phone. Another message from Sarah, this one from a new number. She'd burned through three phones this week, trying to reach him. "They needed to understand. Actions have consequences. Sometimes they take two years to arrive, but they always come due."

The message from Sarah was just one line: "I'm sorry. Please. I'll do anything."

Two years ago, he'd sent her messages just like that. Begging her to treat him with basic respect. To see him as a person, not a prop. She'd ignored every one.

Now it was his turn.

He typed back: "Anything? Then try this: Go back in time. Treat people with kindness. Don't be the kind of person who needs to beg for mercy from someone you thought was beneath you."

Then he blocked this number too.

Outside his window, the sun was setting behind the city skyline. Somewhere out there, Sarah was probably crying in her car, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. Her friends weren't answering her calls. Her favorite restaurants wouldn't seat her. Her black card was worthless.

Good.

This was just the beginning. He had ninety-five more chapters to write in this story of revenge, and he was going to make every single one count.

After all, Sarah had taught him well: The best way to destroy someone was to do it slowly, publicly, and with a smile on your face.