The unstoppable vengeance of Micheal Krux.

29; The name that shouldn’t exist

Chapter 29; The Name That Shouldn’t Exist

Michael Krux POV

Miller did not speak immediately after that first name slipped out.

He froze as if he could take it back, his eyes shifting toward the door for a brief second before returning to me. The tension in his shoulders tightened, and I could see the exact moment he realized there was no undoing what he had just started.

“You’re too late to hesitate now,” I said calmly, my fingers resting lightly on the cold metal table between us.

He swallowed, his throat moving slowly as he tried to steady himself. “You don’t understand how deep this goes,” he replied, his voice lower now, almost strained.

“I understand enough,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”

That answer did not comfort him.

If anything, it made things worse.

Miller leaned back slightly, dragging a hand over his face before exhaling. The room felt tighter now, like the walls had shifted closer without moving.

“You think it was just about money?” he asked. “About some accounts and transfers?”

I didn’t interrupt him this time.

He needed to speak.

“No,” he continued, shaking his head slowly. “That was just the cover. It made everything look clean, simple, believable. But the real thing… the real thing was bigger.”

His eyes lifted to meet mine again.

“They were moving assets, yes, but not just financial ones,” he said.

I narrowed my gaze slightly.

“Explain,” I said.

Miller hesitated again, but not for long this time.

“Information,” he said. “Access. Control points inside companies that didn’t even know they were being controlled.”

The words settled into the room carefully, like pieces of something much larger.

“And Luxter?” I asked.

He laughed once, short and dry, as if the answer was obvious.

“They weren’t outside of it,” he said. “No one at that level ever is.”

That wasn’t confirmation.

But it was enough.

“Who signed off on it?” I asked.

Miller looked at me for a long moment, his expression shifting between resistance and resignation.

“You already heard the first name,” he said. “You know what that means.”

“I want the rest,” I replied.

My tone did not change, but the pressure did.

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping just slightly, as if the fight had started leaving him.

“There were three,” he said. “Three people who had full visibility. Everyone else just followed instructions.”

“Names,” I said again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

He gave me both the second and the third.

I did not react outwardly.

But inside me, I felt complicated?in a way that indicated everything was going to be alright, enough to confirm what I had suspected from the beginning.

This was never a single move.

It was a system.

And that system had been protected for years.

Until now.

“You’re going to bring this out,” Miller said, watching me carefully.

“Yes,” I replied.

He let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

“They’ll bury you again,” he said.

I stood up slowly, adjusting my jacket as I looked down at him.

“They’ll try,” I said.

The difference mattered.

---

As I stepped toward the door, his voice stopped me.

“What happens to me?” he asked.

I paused, my hand resting on the handle.

“That depends on how useful you continue to be,” I replied.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It was structure.

I opened the door and stepped out, the corridor feeling colder than before, the sound of my footsteps echoing again as I walked away.

---

Layla Luxter POV

The office felt different now.

I stood by the window, looking out at the city without really seeing it, my thoughts moving too quickly to settle on anything outside the room. The file on my desk remained open, its contents still sitting where I had left them, unfinished, unresolved.

There was too much to process.

Too many connections forming where there should have been none.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

Daniel entered, his expression composed as always, but there was something more deliberate in the way he moved now, as if even he understood the weight of what was unfolding.

“You’ve been called in,” he said.

I turned slightly.

“By who?” I asked.

“The board,” he replied. “Immediate session.”

That wasn’t surprising though, in fact it was overdue.

---

The boardroom felt colder than usual when I stepped in.

Not physically.

But in the way the people inside looked at me.

Not with the same measured respect as before.

Not with casual familiarity, time,with pure hatred.

Gabriel stood near the head of the table, his posture firm, his expression controlled, but I could see the tension in the way his hands rested against the surface.

“Sit,” he said.

I did.

No greetings.

No introductions.

Just silence for a few seconds before one of the investors spoke.

“We need to address what happened last night,” he said.

His tone was calm.

Too calm.

“And we need to understand your role in it,” another added, looking directly at me.

I held their gaze.

“My role?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “You met him before the event.”

The room tightened.

Gabriel didn’t speak.

He was watching.

Waiting.

I took a slow breath.

“I met him as part of securing the contract,” I said.

“That contract never came,” the first investor replied.

“That wasn’t within my control,” I said.

“Is anything within your control right now?” someone else asked.

The question landed sharper than anything before it.

I turned slightly toward Gabriel.

“This isn’t just about me,” I said.

“It became about you the moment he used you,” one of them replied.

Because it carried truth I couldn’t ignore.

“You made a public statement that weakened one side,” another added, “and yet we gained nothing from it.”

“I acted based on instruction,” I said, my voice steady but firmer now.

“And now we’re asking if that instruction was sound,” he replied.

The room went still, for a moment, no one spoke.

Then Gabriel finally moved.

He straightened, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on the investors.

“This was a calculated risk,” he said. “One that has not fully played out yet.”

“And if it never does?” one of them asked.

His tone was no longer neutral.

It was challenging.

Gabriel’s expression tightened just slightly.

“Then we adjust,” he said.

But the confidence wasn’t as strong as before.

And everyone felt it.

I sat there, listening, watching, feeling the shift happen in front of me this time.

Not explosive or loud, just enough for Simone paying attention to notice.

Not dramatic which by the way was so hard and yet the happening of recent days made it a little easy.

The meeting continued, but the tone had already changed.

And as I walked out later, one thing stayed clear in my mind, settling slowly, heavily.

Michael hadn’t just exposed something.