2026-01-15 05:46:34The chair Ethan used to occupy was still empty. No one mentioned it, but everyone noticed. Richard Hale stood at the head of the boardroom, jacket off, sleeves rolled up like a man ready for battle, except the enemy was already inside the walls.
“This is unacceptable.”
His voice cracked across the table. “Quarterly losses have doubled. Suppliers are shortening payment terms. Logistics missed deadlines again.”
He slammed a report down. “Someone explain to me how this happened.”
No one spoke. The silence was thick, accusing.
Richard’s eyes moved from face to face. “I’m waiting.”
The CFO cleared his throat. “Sir, the indicators were there months ago. We flagged”
“You flagged nothing,”
Richard snapped. “You sent me spreadsheets full of optimism.”
“They were based on the strategy you approved.”
Richard scoffed. “Don’t start shifting blame.”
A woman from operations leaned forward. “We’re not shifting blame. We’re drowning. Warehouses are stalled, distributors are”
“Enough,”
Richard cut in. “I didn’t call this meeting to listen to excuses.”
He paced. “This company didn’t survive twenty years because of hesitation. It survived because I made hard decisions.”
A man near the middle of the table, late forties, sharp eyes, tired face, finally spoke.
“With respect, Richard, hard decisions aren’t the same as stubborn ones.”
The room stiffened. Richard stopped walking. “What did you say?”
The man didn’t flinch. “I said stubbornness is costing us.”
A few heads snapped toward him. Someone muttered his name under their breath.
“Daniel,”
Richard said slowly. “Careful.”
Daniel exhaled. “We’re past careful.”
Richard laughed without humor. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
Daniel gestured to the reports scattered across the table. “This didn’t come out of nowhere. We were warned.”
“By who?” Richard challenged.
Daniel hesitated for half a second. “By the young analyst you fired.”
The air left the room. Richard’s face darkened. “Do not bring that up.”
“Why not?”
Daniel pressed. “Because he was right?”
“He was insubordinate.” “He was honest,”
Daniel said. “And you couldn’t stand it.”
Richard’s voice rose. “That boy had four months of experience and a mouth bigger than his résumé.”
“And a brain bigger than this entire room,” Daniel shot back.
Someone gasped. Richard pointed a finger. “You’re out of line.”
Daniel stood. “No. This company is.”
Silence again, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was recognition. “He told us this would happen,”
Daniel continued. “He said the cash flow was an illusion. He said we were bleeding quietly. And instead of listening, you humiliated him.”
Richard’s jaw clenched. “Sit down.”
Daniel didn’t. “We’re packing up floors. Laying off staff. Begging suppliers,”
Daniel said. “And you’re still pretending this is everyone else’s fault.”
Richard stepped closer. “You’re accusing me?”
“I’m telling you the truth,”
Daniel replied. “Your pride is killing this company.”
The words hung there, final, irreversible. Richard’s voice dropped, ice-cold. “You’re fired.”
A sharp inhale rippled through the room. Daniel blinked. “You’re making a mistake.”
Richard didn’t blink back. “Security will escort you out. Effective immediately.”
Daniel looked around the table, at colleagues who wouldn’t meet his eyes, at faces full of fear and regret.
He nodded once. “History won’t be kind to this decision.”
Then he walked out. The door closed. No one spoke. Richard straightened his jacket. “Anyone else feel inspired to challenge leadership?”
Silence. “Good,”
Richard said. “Now let’s talk about damage control.”
But even as he spoke, eyes drifted, not to him, but to the empty chair. Across the city, in a glass building twice as tall and ten times as alive, Ethan Blackwood stood in a very different room.
“This is the offer,”
the woman across from him said, sliding a contract forward. “Five times your previous salary. Full autonomy. Direct access to the board.”
Ethan skimmed the numbers without reaction. “And expectations?”
he asked. She smiled. “We’re honest here. We’re failing.”
Ethan nodded. “Good. Then you know what you need.”
She leaned back. “We’ve reviewed your work. What you did at Hale Industries—before and after you left.”
“After I left?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,”
she said. “The collapse.”
He closed the folder gently. “You fired the wrong man,”
she continued. “They’re paying for it. We don’t intend to.”
Ethan considered the room, modern, sharp, efficient. No wasted space. No wasted words.
“When do I start?” he asked.
“Immediately,”
she said. “If you accept.”
Ethan picked up the pen. “I do.”
He signed. That evening, Richard Hale sat alone in his office. The city lights flickered beyond the window, distant and indifferent. His assistant knocked softly. “Sir… the suppliers want guarantees.”
Richard rubbed his temples. “Tell them we’re restructuring.”
“And the press?”
“Tell them nothing.”
She hesitated. “And Daniel?”
Richard’s voice hardened. “Daniel is irrelevant.”
The assistant nodded and left. Richard stared at the table where Ethan once sat.
He shook his head. “Arrogant kid,”
he muttered. But the words didn’t convince him anymore.
His phone buzzed. A message from the board:
Emergency vote scheduled. Tomorrow. Richard leaned back slowly.
For the first time in years, doubt crept in. At the same moment, Ethan stood by the window of his new office, phone pressed to his ear. “They fired someone today,”
a quiet voice said on the line. “For defending you.”
Ethan closed his eyes briefly. “That was inevitable,” he said.
“You predicted this too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
A pause. “What are you going to do now?”
Ethan looked out over the city, the same city, different height.
“I’m going to work,”
he said. “And let results speak.”
He ended the call. Behind him, the lights stayed on late into the night. And across town, a company began dying faster. The chair remained empty. But its absence was now louder than any voice in the room.
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CHAPTER 13 — MEN AT THE BAR
Friday nights never changed.No matter how the week went, profit or loss, victory or humiliation, Richard Hale always ended his Fridays at the same bar. Same corner booth. Same low lights. Same seven men.They called themselves friends, but they were more like mirrors, men of power, ego, money, and influence. CEOs, investors, contractors, politicians-in-waiting. Men who believed the world bent because they leaned on it.The bar smelled of aged whiskey and polished wood. Jazz hummed softly in the background, just loud enough to drown out conscience.Richard arrived late. That alone drew attention. “Look who finally decided to join civilization,”one of them joked. Richard didn’t smile. He loosened his tie and dropped into the booth, signaling the bartender without a word. “Bad week?”another asked. Richard took the glass handed to him and swallowed deeply before answering. “Bad… realization,”he said. That caught their attention. They leaned in. Richard stared into his drink for a mome
CHAPTER 12 — THE WAITING ROOM OF POWER
The mood was different. That alone unsettled people. For the first time in years, laughter existed inside the walls of Hale Industries’ boardroom, not loud, not careless, but restrained, hopeful.Smiles appeared where fear once lived. Conversations flowed without whispers. People walked in lighter. Chairs were pulled back without hesitation. Coffee cups were filled without shaking hands.Some even joked quietly, careful not to tempt fate. Friday had arrived. And with it, Ethan. Or so they believed. Amara took her seat and looked around the room. She counted faces.Everyone was present, no sick excuses, no sudden errands. Even staff who rarely attended meetings had found reasons to be there.Hope had summoned them. Daniel adjusted his tie for the third time. He hadn’t slept much. The thought that he, of all people, had sparked this moment made his chest tight. “Do you think he’ll come?”someone whispered. “He said yes,”another replied. “People like him don’t break appointments.” Dani
CHAPTER 11 — THE SUMMONING
The meeting ended without resolution. That alone was unusual.Richard Hale stood slowly, straightened his jacket, and said, “Let’s end this meeting here. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning. I need to make some enquiries.” Nothing more.No explanations. No arguments. No insults. Just that. People exchanged looks as he walked out—measured steps, shoulders squared, face unreadable. The door closed behind him with a soft click, yet it sounded louder than any shout he had ever made.For the first time in years, Richard Hale had asked for time. That night, his office light stayed on longer than usual.He sat alone, files spread across his desk. Reports. Old emails. Projections he had once dismissed without reading past the first page.One name appeared again and again. Ethan Blackwood. Richard leaned back, fingers pressed together.He remembered the boy, quiet, observant, always writing things down. He remembered how easily Ethan had spoken in meetings, how confidently he had predicted outcom
CHAPTER 10 — THE NAME THAT REFUSED TO DIE
The room was silent. Not the awkward kind. The heavy kind.Richard Hale stood at the head of the table again, hands resting on the polished wood, eyes moving slowly from face to face. The words spoken in the last meeting still hung in the air like smoke that refused to clear. He exhaled.Then spoke. “Does anyone else,”he said calmly, “have anything to say?”No anger. No shouting. Just a question. People shifted in their seats. No one raised a hand. Richard nodded once, as if confirming what he already believed. “Good,”he said. “Then”A hand went up. Everyone turned.It was a woman. Mid-thirties. Calm eyes. One of the few senior staff who had survived years without being sacked, mostly because she spoke little. Richard paused. His eyes rested on her hand. She had never raised it before.“What is your name?”he asked. “Amara,”she replied softly. Richard gestured. “Speak.”She stood slowly, smoothing her jacket, gathering herself. “Sir,”she began, respectful but firm, “I don’t intend
CHAPTER 9 — THE LAST MEETING
The meeting room filled slowly that morning. No one rushed. No one joked. People took their seats like mourners attending a funeral they already knew the outcome of. Richard Hale arrived last. He didn’t carry files. Didn’t carry reports. Didn’t even carry anger. He carried finality.He stood at the head of the table, looked at the faces before him, some familiar, some already halfway gone, and cleared his throat. “I won’t waste your time,”he said calmly. “I think this will be our last meeting.”A ripple passed through the room. “This company,”Richard continued, “can no longer sustain itself. I have made up my mind.”He paused, then delivered it cleanly. “We are shutting down.”A sharp inhale. A stifled gasp. A chair scraping backward. No one spoke. Richard nodded, as if confirming a decision already stamped.“I will work with legal and finance to manage the closure. Severance will be discussed where possible.”Where possible. The words tasted cruel. He folded his hands. “That is al
CHAPTER 8 — THE ARGUMENT INSIDE HIS HEAD
The message reached him before he reached his office. Richard Hale stepped out of the elevator, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw tightening with every word.“…Six?”he repeated. “They didn’t resume?”A pause. “Yes, sir. No notice.”Richard stopped walking. Six workers. Gone. Not sick. Not late. Gone. “Terminate them,”he said flatly. “Effective immediately.”The voice on the other end hesitated. “Sir”“Did you hear me?”Richard snapped. “All six. Sack them.”“Yes, sir.”The call ended. Richard stood there for a moment, staring down the hallway. Desks were emptier than they used to be. Conversations stopped when he passed. Eyes dropped.Fear had replaced respect. He entered his office and shut the door harder than necessary. Six more. He loosened his tie and dropped into his chair, staring at the wall without seeing it.Eight months. That number mocked him now. His desk phone sat untouched. His laptop screen glowed with unread reports. didn’t open them.Instead, a voice echoed in his
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