The unstoppable vengeance of Micheal Krux.

11. The Boardroom Ghost

Chapter 11 – The Boardroom Ghost

Michael Krux POV

I stood still in my burgundy custome made tailored suit, carrying my Armani brief case as the elevator rose in silence.

No music.

No voices.

Just the soft mechanical hum as it climbed toward the top floor of Luxter Tower.

I stood alone, hands in my pockets, dressed in a tailored black suit that fit like it had been made for war.

Because it had.

The reflection staring back at me from the mirrored walls wasn’t the man they had buried five years ago.

That man had softer eyes.

This one didn’t hesitate.

The screen above the door blinked.

Level 72. Executive Floor.

The doors slid open.

I stepped out.

Polished marble floors stretched ahead, spotless and expensive, the kind of place where power whispered instead of shouted.

Receptionists froze the moment they saw me.

Not because they knew me.

Because they didn’t.

And men like me didn’t walk into places like this unnoticed.

“Sir—” one of them started, standing halfway.

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t even look at her.

My shoes echoed once.

Twice.

Then silence followed me like a shadow.

At the end of the corridor, double doors stood slightly open.

Voices spilled out.

Confident.

Arrogant.

Familiar.

I pushed the doors open.

---

The boardroom was massive.

Floor to ceiling glass walls overlooked the entire Capital City skyline.

A long black table stretched through the center, surrounded by men and women in suits worth more than most people’s annual salaries.

And at the head of the table was Gabriel Luxter.

He stood tall, polished, confident.

Exactly as I remembered.

But softer and weaker.

Because everything he had built sat on stolen foundations.

A large screen behind him displayed the blueprint of a vehicle.

‘Phoenix Core System – Modified Design’

My design.

My work.

My name erased.

“…this innovation will position Luxter Energy as the global leader in sustainable mobility,” Gabriel was saying, voice smooth, practiced.

Lies came easily to him.

“They’ll eat this up,” one of the investors nodded.

“They already are,” another added.

Layla sat two seats to his right.

She was calm and elegant, observing him from her safe seat.

Her fingers rested lightly on a tablet, but her attention wasn’t on the screen.

It shifted the moment I stepped in.

The door clicked shut behind me and silence fell into the room.

Not the dramatic kind, it was just enough to throw them off guard and leave everyone confused because they weren’t expecting me.

The irritation masked with curiousity was evident on their faces.

One of the board members frowned.

“Excuse me, this meeting is…”

I walked past him, shutting him on his track.

Uninvited and unbothered, I went straight ahead and took a seat at the far end of the table like I belonged there.

Gabriel stopped talking.

For a fraction of a second.

Then he smiled.

Professional.

Controlled.

But I saw it.

That flicker.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

His voice carried authority.

But not certainty.

I leaned back slightly.

Crossed one leg over the other.

“No,” I said simply.

The room stiffened.

A few people exchanged looks.

Gabriel’s smile tightened.

“I’m afraid this is a closed board meeting.”

“And I’m afraid,” I cut in, my voice low and steady, “that your third-phase energy conversion ratio is wrong.”

Silence dropped heavier this time.

Not confusion.

Not irritation.

This was something else.

Gabriel blinked once.

Just once.

Behind him, the blueprint remained on the screen.

Clean.

Convincing.

And flawed.

One of the engineers frowned.

“What do you mean?”

I didn’t look at him.

My eyes stayed on Gabriel.

“Your system collapses under sustained output after twelve minutes,” I continued calmly.

“That’s impossible,” someone snapped.

“It’s already been tested.”

I tilted my head slightly.

“No,” I said. “It’s been simulated.”

A pause.

Small.

Deadly.

Then I added…

“And your simulation parameters are outdated.”

The room shifted.

You could feel it.

That slow, creeping doubt.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened just enough to notice.

He turned slightly toward the screen.

Then back to me.

“You seem very confident for someone who wasn’t invited,” he said.

“I don’t need an invitation to recognize my own work.”

That landed.

Hard.

A few heads snapped toward Gabriel.

Layla’s fingers stilled on the table.

I saw it.

That tiny tremor.

Gabriel chuckled lightly.

Too quickly.

“You’re mistaken,” he said smoothly.

“This is proprietary technology developed in-house.”

I nodded once.

“Then fix the thermal bleed in the core chamber.”

Silence.

Total.

Even the air felt heavier.

“Because when it fails,” I continued, voice even, “it won’t just stall.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“It will burn.”

No one spoke.

One of the investors shifted in his seat.

“Is that true?” he asked, looking at Gabriel.

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately.

And that—

That was enough.

A crack.

Small.

But real.

He recovered fast.

He always did.

“I don’t know who you are,” Gabriel said, voice firmer now, “but I suggest you leave before security removes you.”

I smiled.

Just a little.

Not friendly.

Not warm.

“Call them,” I said.

No one moved.

Because something in the room had already changed.

Authority wasn’t where it used to be.

Layla was still looking at me.

Not blinking.

Not speaking.

Just… searching.

Like she was trying to pull something out of memory that refused to surface.

I stood up slowly.

Buttoned my jacket.

“Run another test,” I said, almost casually.

“When it fails… remember this conversation.”

I turned toward the door.

No one stopped me.

Not Gabriel.

Not security.

No one.

Because doubt had already taken root.

And doubt spreads faster than fire.

My hand reached the door.

Then I paused.

Just long enough.

Without turning back.

“You should also replace your lead engineer,” I added.

“He’s lying to you.”

Then I walked out.

---

The hallway felt quieter on the way out.

Heavier.

Like the building itself was holding its breath.

Behind me, the boardroom doors remained closed.

But I could already imagine it.

Voices rising.

Questions being asked.

Gabriel defending.

Investors doubting.

Pressure building.

I stepped into the elevator.

Pressed the ground floor.

The doors slid shut.

And for the first time since stepping in—

I allowed myself a breath.

Not relief.

Never that.

Just calculation.

The elevator descended smoothly.

Floor numbers dropping one by one.

Then my phone buzzed.

Aria.

I answered.

“Well?” she asked.

Her voice was calm.

Curious.

I leaned lightly against the wall.

“They’re unstable,” I said.

A brief pause.

Then—

“Good,” she replied.

“I gave them something small,” I continued.

“Enough to hurt.”

“Not enough to scare?”

I looked at my reflection again.

Those same cold eyes staring back.

“They’re already scared,” I said.

A soft exhale on her end.

Almost like satisfaction.

“Then what’s next?” she asked.

I smiled slightly.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was inevitable.

“They bleed.”

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped out into the lobby.

People moved around me, unaware.

Unimportant.

“They don’t know it’s you yet,” Aria said.

“No,” I replied.

“And that’s the best part.”

Outside, the city stretched wide and alive.

Luxter Tower stood behind me.

Tall.

Untouchable.

For now.

A black car pulled up to the curb.

Right on time.

I got in.

The door shut with a soft click.

“Drive,” I said.

As the car pulled away, I looked up once more at the glass tower reflecting the sky.

Five years ago, they took everything from me.

Today—

I knocked once.

Soon—

I would break the door down.

And when I did—

There would be nothing left for them to hold onto.

I leaned back into the seat.

Closed my eyes briefly.

And in the quiet space between breaths, one thought settled in, cold and certain.

This was only the beginning.