Chapter 6 - The Billionaire’s UltimatumMalcolm stepped inside the small apartment, ducking slightly beneath the low ceiling. He looked around the modest living room—the second-hand sofa, the shelves overflowing with children’s books, and the framed photograph of Sarah on the mantelpiece.
“Ethan, this has gone far enough,” Malcolm said, his voice dropping into a serious, pleading tone. “The board is in a flat-out panic. Lakeview’s security protocols are locked to your personal master keys. If you don’t log back into the mainframe by tomorrow morning, seventeen regional databases freeze.”
“Let them freeze,” Ethan said calmly.
Malcolm stared at him in disbelief. “Ethan, you’re talking about billions of dollars in medical logistics, supply chains, and inventory networks! Hospitals rely on those databases for emergency prescriptions!”
“Which is exactly why I built them to be resilient,” Ethan replied, walking back toward the kitchen to check on Lily’s volcano. “And it’s also why I wanted to see how Lakeview was being run. For six years, I watched middle management inflate their budgets, push out hardworking analysts, and treat junior staff like dispensable office supplies. Derek Lawson wasn’t an anomaly, Malcolm. He was a symptom.”
Claire Holloway stepped into the kitchen, looking nervously at Lily, who was busy painting the papier-mâché mountain with red acrylic paint. Claire cleared her throat respectfully.
“Mr. Cole,” Claire said softly. “You have every right to be furious. Lawson has been terminated, his pension benefits stripped, and his desk cleared out. But the employees at Lakeview... they depend on those jobs. Nina, Frank, everyone in that bullpen. If the system locks down, the whole branch goes under.”
Ethan turned around, looking at Claire, then at Malcolm.
“I’ll unlock the system,” Ethan said quietly. “On one condition.”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Name it. Board seats? Executive titles? A corner office on the top floor with a view of the lake?”
“No corner office,” Ethan said, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth. “I want my cubicle back. I want my old salary. And I want a written company-wide policy stating that any manager who fires an employee without a three-tier audit gets demoted to scrubbing the cafeteria floors.”
Malcolm blinked, processing the terms, before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
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“You’re really going to stay down there in the trenches, aren’t you?”
“Somebody has to make sure the math works,” Ethan said.
