Chapter 5 - The Ghost of Laurent SeniorThomas pulled the topmost document out of the lockbox. The paper was crisp, but the date was stamped a decade ago.
“Internal Memo: Project Clean-Sweep. Asset Reallocation & Liability Erasure.”
Lucas watched Thomas’s face drain of every trace of color. The powerful, unflappable billionaire looked like he had just been struck by lightning. His hands shook slightly as he flipped the pages, revealing a meticulously detailed ledger of corporate embezzlement, offshore shell companies, and—most chillingly—a list of names of junior accountants and whistleblowers who had mysteriously vanished or been discredited over the past fifteen years.
One name near the bottom caught Thomas’s eye: David Evans.
Thomas stopped breathing. He knew that name. David Evans was a senior financial analyst at Laurent Enterprises who had reportedly died in a tragic factory fire back in 2017—a fire that the police ruled accidental, though the insurance payout conveniently saved the company from a massive bankruptcy scandal.
And David Evans was Clara’s husband. Lucas’s father.
"Mr. Laurent?" Lucas whispered, tugging gently on the hem of Thomas’s ruined, grease-stained shirt. "Is that... is that about my dad? Mom always said he didn't die in a fire. She said the company stole him."
Thomas slowly lowered the papers. He looked down at the eight-year-old boy, and for the first time, he didn't see an annoyance, an intruder, or a corporate nuisance. He saw a mirror image of himself—both of them trapped in the machinery of a dynasty built on blood, ink, and lies.
"Lucas," Thomas said, his voice dangerously hoarse. "Your mother isn't just a cleaning lady. And I am not just your boss."
Before Thomas could explain further, the heavy steel security doors of Sector Four slammed shut with a thunderous automatic lock.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG.
The emergency lights flickered, turned from red to an institutional, blinding white. The digital displays on the corridor walls blinked off, replaced by a single, glowing corporate logo: The Board of Directors.
An automated, synthesized voice echoed through the PA system: “Attention, President Laurent. Security Protocol 9 has been initiated by Executive Mandate. You are currently in unauthorized possession of classified Level-1 audit assets. Stand down and await containment.”
May you like
Thomas’s head snapped toward the security camera in the corner. The lens was rotating, locking its red laser targeting crosshair directly onto his chest.
"They locked us in," Thomas whispered, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure fury. "My own board."
