The unstoppable vengeance of Micheal Krux.

20; The Pressure Point

Chapter 20; The Pressure Point

Layla Luxter POV

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Luxter Tower that morning was the change in how people looked at me.

It wasn’t obvious, but one stopped me.

They all murmured, but no one whispered loud enough to be heard.

But the difference was there, sitting just beneath the surface, in the way conversations paused half a second too long when I passed, in the way greetings felt more formal than warm, in the way eyes lingered with curiosity instead of respect.

The marble floor reflected my heels as I walked, each step steady, controlled, echoing softly in the open space. The scent of fresh polish and chilled air filled the lobby, sharp and clean, but it did nothing to ease the quiet tension pressing against my chest.

I kept my head high and moved toward the private elevator.

Nothing had changed.

That was what I told myself.

But something had.

By the time I reached the executive floor, the shift was clearer.

Assistants who usually greeted me with easy familiarity now nodded with polite distance. A few avoided eye contact entirely, their attention suddenly absorbed in screens and documents that did not require that level of focus.

I slowed slightly as I walked past them, not enough to show hesitation, but enough to observe.

Respect had not disappeared.

It had adjusted.

And I knew exactly when it had started.

The statement.

I pushed the thought aside and continued toward Gabriel’s office, knocking once before entering.

He was already inside, standing near the window with his back to the room, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the tension beneath it.

“No, that’s not acceptable,” he said. “We had alignment before this. You don’t just shift position without communication.” He paused.

“I’m not interested in speculation,” he continued. “I need confirmation.”

He ended the call before the response came, lowering the phone slowly as he exhaled through his nose.

When he turned and saw me, his expression didn’t soften.

“Good, you’re here,” he said.

I stepped further into the room, closing the door behind me. “I went back to the company,” I said. “I delivered the statement. I followed through.”

Gabriel nodded once.

“I know,” he said. “I saw it.”

There was no acknowledgment beyond that.

No appreciation.

Just movement to the next problem.

“They still haven’t agreed to meet,” I added, watching his reaction carefully.

That made his jaw tighten slightly.

“They will,” he said.

I held his gaze. “That’s what you said before.”

Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t the quiet kind. It carried friction now, something sharper than before.

Gabriel walked back toward his desk, placing his phone down with more force than necessary.

“There’s a new development,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. “Volkov International.”

That got his attention.

“You’ve seen it?” he asked.

“It’s everywhere,” I said. “They’ve taken five percent of the Krux holdings.”

Gabriel let out a short breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back to me.

“They moved fast,” he said. “Too fast.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“And now they’re in control of the recovery narrative,” he added.

Not fully, but enough to make a damage.

I stepped closer to the desk, placing my hand lightly against its surface as I leaned forward slightly.

“Then we speak to them,” I said. “Directly.”

Gabriel shook his head once.

“They’ve refused every request,” he said. “Including mine.”

“Then we change the approach,” I replied.

He looked at me, something unreadable settling behind his eyes.

“I already did,” he said.

The meaning of that sat between us for a moment before I responded.

“And it didn’t work,” I said.

That was the wrong thing to say.

I saw it immediately in the way his expression hardened, the controlled frustration surfacing just enough to be felt.

“I sent you,” Gabriel said, his voice low.

“And I went,” I replied, matching his tone. “I did exactly what was asked.”

“And yet we’re still here,” he said.

The words weren’t loud.

But they landed.

I straightened slowly, the weight of them settling deeper than I expected.

“This isn’t just about me not securing a meeting,” I said. “This is something else.”

Gabriel didn’t respond immediately, he didn’t say it, but I’m sure he knew I was right.

By afternoon, the pressure had already spread making the meeting run longer than intended.

Conversations carried sharper edges.

Numbers were checked, rechecked, and questioned again, and still, nothing stabilized.

I sat in the conference room across from two investors who had supported Luxter Energy for years, their expressions carefully neutral but no longer as confident as they used to be.

“We need clarity,” one of them said, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. “The market is reacting faster than expected.”

“We’re addressing it,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

“With what?” the other asked directly, making me feel uneasy.

“With strategy,” I said.

They exchanged a glance.

“That’s not enough right now,” the first man said. “We need movement. Something visible.”

I held his gaze.

“You’ll have it,” I said.

But even as I said it, I knew we didn’t.

Later that day, as I walked back through the corridor, I caught a fragment of conversation from two junior staff members who didn’t realize I was close enough to hear.

“…after that statement, I thought things would improve,” one of them whispered.

“It didn’t,” the other replied quietly. “If anything, it made things worse.”

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t react.

I kept walking, my expression unchanged, my steps steady, but the words stayed with me longer than they should have.

By the time I reached the elevator, I could feel the shift fully now.

Not just outside.

Inside.

The doors opened with a soft sound, and I stepped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. The descent was smooth, quiet, uninterrupted, but my thoughts were anything but.

The statement had been made.

The condition had been met.

And yet, nothing had moved in our favor.

When I stepped out into the evening air, the city felt louder than usual, the distant sound of traffic blending with voices and movement that never stopped. I walked toward the car, the cool breeze brushing lightly against my skin, carrying the faint scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet.

As I reached for the door handle, my phone buzzed.

There was a message from an known number.

I paused for a second before opening it.

There was no greeting.

No introduction, Just a single line.

‘Now you understand.’

I stared at the screen, the words settling slowly, deliberately, like something meant to be felt rather than read.

A second message came through.

‘Next time, choose more carefully’

My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

The air felt colder.

Sharper.

I looked up instinctively, scanning the street, the buildings, the passing cars, but nothing stood out. Everything looked normal.

But somehow, it felt different, as if someone was watching me and it gave me the creeps, knowing there’s little I can do to change that, whoever it was, the person was winning by a great margin.

I got into the car slowly, closing the door as the city noise dulled around me.

For the first time since this started, it felt personal, not just business, not just pressure, but something deeper and whoever was behind it had just stepped closer without being seen which meant the next move wouldn’t even come from us still.