Chapter 14

  Leo’s voice trembled as he spoke, his attempt to reclaim control coming out weak and broken. “How… how could you do this? Why didn’t you just talk to me? Why didn’t you believe me when I said I wanted to apologize?”

  Daniel turned to Leo, his expression cold and unreadable. His eyes seemed to pierce through Leo’s defenses, seeing him for the hollow, desperate man he had become. He let the question hang in the air for a moment before responding, his tone firm and deliberate.

  “It doesn’t matter if I believed you or not,” Daniel said flatly. “What matters is that the evidence speaks for itself. And with the sheer amount of it stacked against you, not even you can escape the consequences this time.”

  Leo’s heart sank further, his chest tightening as fear gripped him. His hands trembled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’m sorry, Daniel. Truly, I am. Please.”

  Daniel’s lips curled into a humorless laugh, the sound sending a chill down Leo’s spine. “Sorry? Now you’re sorry? Look at yourself, Leo. You’re pathetic. Desperate.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone. “You’ve spent years tearing people down, driving out dedicated employees who could have made this company great. And now, because of you, they’re going to lose me — one of the most valuable assets they’ve ever had.”

  Leo’s breath hitched, the words hitting him like blows. This wasn’t the Daniel he knew — the quiet, submissive employee he could belittle without fear of retaliation. This Daniel was calculated, ruthless, and entirely in control. It was like he had been replaced by someone else, someone Leo couldn’t manipulate or intimidate.

  Fear coursed through Leo’s veins as Daniel continued, his tone calm but deadly. “There’s no saving you anymore, Leo. No last-minute fix, no redemption arc. You’ve burned every bridge, and now you’re standing alone, staring into the fire you started.”

  Daniel leaned back, his voice sharp and cutting. “Chief Director Michael doesn’t trust you anymore. I’ve seen it in his eyes. He knows exactly what you are. And you know what that means, don’t you?”

  Leo didn’t respond, his body trembling as stress overtook him. The color drained from his face, his skin turning ashen.

  “Your days are numbered,” Daniel said, his words slow and deliberate, each one slicing through Leo’s already fragile composure. “No matter what you do now, it’s over. The clock is ticking, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

  Leo’s body slumped in the chair, all strength leaving him. His hands fell limply to his sides, his breathing shallow and uneven. He had never felt so powerless, so completely at someone else’s mercy.

  The room felt colder, the silence deafening. Leo’s mind raced, searching for any way out, but there was none. The reality of his situation crashed down on him like a wave, and for the first time in his career, Leo knew true fear.

  Daniel stood, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Leo’s. “This is the end for you, Leo. Get used to it.”

  With that, Daniel walked away, leaving Leo sitting there, pale and defeated, the weight of his actions finally catching up to him.

  Leo remained frozen in his chair, the weight of Daniel’s words pressing down on him like an immovable force. His mind raced, a chaotic storm of disbelief, fear, and regret. What have I done? The thought echoed in his head, louder with every passing second. He couldn’t shake the image of Daniel’s cold, calculating demeanor, the ruthless precision in his voice. It wasn’t the Daniel he had known. It was something else entirely — something he had helped create.

  For the first time, Leo questioned the full extent of what Daniel was capable of. If Daniel could orchestrate his downfall so flawlessly, who else was on his list? The company itself? The directors? The entire system? The idea chilled him to his core.

  What kind of monster have I made?

  Leo’s fingers trembled as they rested limply on the armrests of the chair. He wanted to believe that Daniel’s vendetta ended with him, but the cold confidence in Daniel’s tone suggested otherwise. Daniel was methodical, patient, and driven by a fire that Leo hadn’t seen coming. He had underestimated him, dismissed him, and now, the consequences were clear.

  Regret gnawed at Leo, bitter and unrelenting. He thought back to all the times he had targeted Daniel, the verbal abuse, the bullying, the sheer arrogance with which he had treated him. All of it had led to this moment. He had pushed too hard, crossed too many lines, and now the man he had used as a punching bag had become the one pulling the strings.

  If this is what he did to me, Leo thought, what’s next? Who’s next?

  The thought of Daniel manipulating others, using the same calculated precision to bend the company to his will, filled Leo with dread. He could almost see it happening — directors falling into Daniel’s trap, allies being used as pawns, the company itself spiraling into chaos under Daniel’s quiet control.

  A pang of self-pity pierced through Leo. He felt the weight of his own downfall, the regret of a life spent abusing power and trust. He pitied himself for the man he had become, but more than that, he pitied Daniel’s future victims. The employees, the leaders, the system — all of them would suffer the ripple effects of the monster Leo had helped create.

  For the first time in his life, Leo regretted more than just the consequences he faced. He regretted his actions, his choices, and the man he had been. He wished he could start anew, make amends, but he knew it was far too late for that. The damage was done, and there was no turning back.

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  Leo stared blankly ahead, his body limp, his thoughts heavy. In his heart, he knew the truth: this was his fault. He had turned Daniel into what he was. And now, the world would have to face the consequences.

  The atmosphere in the conference room was charged with tension as Chief Director Michael took his seat, the quiet murmurs of the directors filling the air. Representatives from various branches across the country had gathered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to impatience. Though some directors had been unable to attend on such short notice, the room was still full, the weight of the meeting apparent to all.

  Michael leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the polished table as the room quieted down. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” he began, his voice calm but authoritative. “I know this meeting was unplanned, but the matter we’re addressing is critical to the future of this company.”

  The directors exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. Michael didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “As you are all aware, Leo Zam has been a trusted member of this company for many years. However, his recent behavior and actions have proven him to be both incompetent and inefficient in his role. This has caused significant disruptions, and frankly, I no longer have confidence in his ability to fulfill his responsibilities.”

  A ripple of murmurs passed through the room. Some directors nodded in agreement, while others furrowed their brows, unsettled by the directness of the statement.

  “To that end,” Michael continued, “I believe it is prudent to start discussing contingency plans should Leo fail to meet the standards we require of him.”

  The room erupted into quiet chatter, directors leaning toward each other to exchange opinions. The voices of agreement and dissent blended into a low hum of conversation.

  Altruis Vander, the director of the countryside branch, was the first to speak. He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “Chief Director Michael, if it comes to that, I would be willing to take on the responsibilities. My branch has been running efficiently under my leadership, and I believe I have the experience needed to step into Leo’s role.”

  This sparked a wave of discussion. Some directors nodded approvingly, voicing their support for Altruis’s candidacy, while others voiced concern.

  “It’s too soon to be thinking about contingency plans,” one director said, his voice carrying over the hum of conversation. “Leo hasn’t failed yet. Shouldn’t we give him time?”

  Michael raised a hand, silencing the room. The directors fell quiet, their attention returning to him. “I understand your concerns,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “Yes, this may seem premature. But the reality is, Leo has lied to me. He has consistently failed to meet the standards we uphold, and I no longer trust him to become better. The damage he has caused to employee morale and company operations is significant.”

  Director Clayton Pierre leaned forward, his expression serious. “Then why extend him this leniency at all?” he asked bluntly. “If he’s already broken multiple company policies, why are we entertaining the possibility of improvement? Shouldn’t we be focusing on moving forward instead of hoping for a turnaround that may never come?”

  The question hung in the air, drawing a collective pause from the room. All eyes were on Michael.

  Michael exhaled, his expression heavy. “Because I have known Leo for years. I trusted him. And I am extending this chance in the vague hope that he will use it to improve. This isn’t about leniency — it’s about giving someone the opportunity to redeem themselves, no matter how slim that chance may be.”

  The room erupted into chatter again, the directors divided in their opinions. Some agreed with Michael’s reasoning, valuing loyalty and second chances, while others argued that such leniency was a liability the company could no longer afford.

  Michael let the discussion play out for a moment, his sharp gaze scanning the room. He knew the diversity of opinions was inevitable, but he also knew this was a turning point for the company. His decision to hold Leo accountable, to plan for his eventual failure, would set a precedent that no one — not even those at the top — was above scrutiny.

  As the directors continued their debate, Michael leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the weight of the discussion unfold. The fate of Leo’s role, and perhaps the company’s future, hung in the balance.

  Chief Director Michael sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he surveyed the room. The heated debate had given him much to consider, but he needed clarity. The divisions among the directors were clear, and it was time to gauge where they truly stood on Leo’s future in the company.

  He raised his hand, a simple gesture that silenced the room instantly. The murmur of voices died down as all eyes turned toward him.

  “Let’s settle this,” Michael said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I want to know how many of you believe that Leo should be removed from his position. If you agree with this decision, raise your hand.”

  For a moment, the room was still. The directors exchanged glances, some hesitant, others thoughtful. Then, Altruis Vander confidently raised his hand, his expression resolute. It wasn’t a surprise; Altruis had already voiced his willingness to step into Leo’s role and clearly believed in the need for a change.

  A few seats away, Daz Jones, a director from another branch, also raised his hand. Daz was known for his no-nonsense approach and a focus on efficiency, so his support for firing Leo was equally unsurprising.

  Michael’s sharp eyes scanned the rest of the room. The other directors remained motionless, their hands firmly on the table. Some avoided eye contact, while others seemed deep in thought. Their reluctance to act was palpable, a mix of loyalty to Leo, uncertainty about the future, or simple pragmatism about the disruptions that firing Leo might cause.

  Michael nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Only two of you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Altruis and Daz. The rest of you don’t believe that Leo should be removed from his position?”

  One of the directors, a woman seated near the center of the table, spoke up hesitantly. “It’s not that we don’t see the issues, Chief Director Michael. But removing Leo could cause instability, especially in a time when the company is already facing challenges. A new appointment could bring its own risks.”

  Another director chimed in, “And despite his shortcomings, Leo does have experience. If there’s a chance he can turn things around, perhaps it’s worth exploring that before we make such a drastic decision.”

  Michael listened, his face impassive. Their reasoning wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it didn’t sit well with him. He had trusted Leo for years, and that trust had been shattered. The leniency he was extending now was more than Leo deserved, and yet, most of the directors weren’t ready to move forward decisively.

  He leaned forward, his gaze hard. “I understand your reservations. But let me be clear: this company cannot afford to keep anyone in a position of power who undermines trust and damages morale. Leo is on his final chance. If he fails to deliver, there will be no more discussions, no more second chances.”

  The room was silent, the weight of his words pressing down on the directors. Altruis and Daz lowered their hands, their expressions unwavering. They had made their stance clear, even if the majority didn’t agree.