The Salaryman's Soul-Sucking Contract

Chapter 14: Retaliation in the Executive Suite

Chapter 14: Retaliation in the Executive Suite

The private elevator to the executive suite didn't just move; it ascended with the silent, heavy finality of a guillotine blade. Daffa watched the floor indicator numbers tick upward in a blur of glowing amber: 38, 39, 40, 42. Each flashing digit felt like a hammer blow against his temple, driving home the reality of what he was about to do. He wasn't the tired, compliant analyst who had stumbled into this marble-floored cage two weeks ago. He was a man with nothing left to lose, carrying a digital detonator in his front pocket.

When the doors hissed open, the penthouse-level corridor was dead silent. The plush grey carpeting swallowed the sound of his footsteps as he marched directly toward the double doors of the executive office. He didn't bother knocking. He didn't wait for an invitation from a secretary or a digital clearance scan. He grabbed the heavy brass handle, shoved the door open, and stepped inside.

Clarisse Bautista was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a crystal tumbler of scotch half-full in her hand. She had traded her mountain gear for a severe, razor-sharp midnight-blue suit that screamed corporate warfare. As the door banged against the oak wall, she didn't even flinch. She simply turned her head slowly, her dark eyes narrowing as they locked onto his.

"You have a lot of nerve coming back here, Daffa," Clarisse said, her voice dropping an octave into that familiar, freezing register of the Ice Queen. "Security was instructed to flag your ID badge at the perimeter. How did you even get past the lobby?"

"Director Santoso has his perks," Daffa replied casually, walking further into the room and tossing a manila folder onto the center of her massive mahogany desk. "Turns out, even executive board members get tired of funding your father's private piggy bank."

Clarisse didn't look at the folder. Her gaze remained fixed on him, a dangerous mix of calculation and suppressed fury flickering in her dark irises. "You’ve been talking to Santoso. I expected better survival instincts from you, Daffa. Aligning with an old dinosaur like him is a rookie mistake. He’ll use you to unseat my father, and then he’ll throw you to the wolves the moment the board reorganizes."

"Maybe so," Daffa stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away from her desk, his eyes burning into hers with cold clarity. "But unlike you, Santoso isn't pretending to be my fiancé while simultaneously drafting a federal arrest warrant for me in a hidden cloud folder. Let’s talk about Phase 2: The Scapegoat, Clarisse. Care to explain how a routine regional audit magically turned into a fabricated fraud case designed to put an innocent analyst in a prison cell?"

The color drained from Clarisse’s face instantly, though she recovered with terrifying speed, raising her chin just a fraction higher. "It was a legal precaution. I told you, my father's inner circle requires buffers. You were the new variable. I had to ensure the firm's core assets were protected."

"By destroying mine?" Daffa laughed, a sharp, humorless sound that echoed off the high ceilings. "You didn't protect the firm, Clarisse. You protected an embezzlement ring. I pulled the sub-ledger data before I left the Puncak retreat. I saw the routing codes. I saw Project Kraken. The North Kalimantan discrepancies aren't a corporate leak—they’re your father’s personal siphon, and you’ve been managing the books since the day you made Vice President."

Clarisse slammed her crystal tumbler down onto the marble window ledge. Liquid splashed over the rim, staining the white stone like a drop of fresh blood. "You don't know what you're talking about, Daffa! You think you're some kind of white-knight hero uncovering a corporate conspiracy, but you're just a blip on a spreadsheet! If you release those files to Santoso or the regulatory commission, my father won't just ruin you—he’ll dismantle every single person who ever shared your last name!"

"Don't you dare bring my family into this," Daffa stepped forward, slamming his palm onto the desk, his voice dropping to a low, trembling growl. "You used my debts against me. You used my trust against me. You wrapped yourself in my bedsheets while writing the script for my perp-walk. You are not just a ruthless executive, Clarisse. You’re a predator wearing a designer suit."

For a split second, the Ice Queen facade cracked. Her breath caught, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the sharp lapels of her jacket. The cold, unreadable armor she wore like a second skin splintered, revealing a raw, desperate panic underneath. "And what was I supposed to do, Daffa? Grow a conscience and let my father crush me into dust? I was bred for this war. Everyone I’ve ever trusted either betrayed me or sold me out. I built this armor because if I didn't, I wouldn't have survived a single day in the C-suite!"

"Then maybe you should have stayed down in the dirt," Daffa said, his voice devoid of pity. "Because the game is over."

He pulled the flash drive from his pocket, tossing it onto the desk right beside the manila folder. It clattered against the wood, a small plastic stick holding the entire Bautista dynasty hostage.

"What is that?" Clarisse whispered, her eyes locked on the drive as if it were a live grenade.

"That's my resignation," Daffa said, turning toward the door. "And it's a copy of every single fraudulent transaction tied to Project Kraken, currently sitting in an encrypted inbox waiting for the financial crimes division to open on Monday morning. You wanted a scapegoat, Clarisse? Go ahead and try to pin this on the guy who just handed your family empire to the federal investigators."

"Daffa, wait!" she shouted, taking an instinctive step around the desk.

He didn't stop. He pushed open the double doors of the executive suite, stepping back out into the quiet, pristine corridor. Behind him, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the penthouse—the crystal tumbler finally hitting the floor, breaking into a thousand glittering pieces just like the illusion they had built together.