Leonard folded his arms, his posture radiating the lazy confidence of a man who believed he owned every room he entered. “Look, whoever you are, this is a closed executive session for the Vanguard Sovereign Fund evaluation. If you’re a temp or an assistant from logistics, leave the files on the table and exit.”
Olivia didn’t blink. She reached into her portfolio, pulled out a sleek, matte-black identification card, and placed it flat on the glass surface. The gold-embossed seal of the Vanguard Sovereign Fund gleamed directly under the spotlight.
Below the seal, printed in bold, undeniable lettering, read: Olivia Johnson, Managing Director & Chief Investment Officer.
The executive near the window stopped smirking. His face turned an ash-gray color, and his phone slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the table.
“Leonard,” the vice president whispered, his voice trembling as he frantically stood up from his chair. “Leonard, stand up. Shut up and stand up right now.”
Leonard frowned, looking from his terrified vice president to the black card on the table. “What is the meaning of this? Who is she?”
“She is the Vanguard Fund,” the vice president choked out, bowing his head toward Olivia. “Ms. Johnson… please accept our deepest apologies. We were told the oversight committee was sending a senior representative, we didn’t realize the Chief Officer was personally conducting the audit.”
To see Leonard try to crawl his way out of the grave he dug, continue to Part 3 below.
Part 3: The Anatomy of an Audit
Leonard’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The little smile he had worn seconds ago withered completely. He tried to push himself up from his chair, extending his hand across the table, his fingers shaking.
“Ms. Johnson… I—I had no idea,” Leonard stammered, his face turning a deep, embarrassed crimson. “A terrible misunderstanding. Truly. I thought you were part of the incoming audiovisual team. Let’s start over. Please.”
Olivia looked at his extended hand, then looked up into his panicked eyes. She kept her hands neatly folded over her portfolio.
“I don’t shake hands with management,” Olivia said, throwing his own words back at him with a calm, freezing precision.
The silence in the room was absolute.
She picked up the first decision packet—the one stamped with a bright green approval code that would have injected two billion dollars of capital into Teranova Systems, saving it from its current liquidity crisis. With a slow, deliberate movement, she slid the green packet into a portable shredder she had brought in her briefcase. The machine whined, turning the two-billion-dollar lifeline into thin strips of confetti.
“Your financial models are sound, Mr. Harrison,” Olivia stated, opening the second packet. “But your human capital is a toxic liability.”
To see the board of directors turn on their own CEO, continue to Part 4 below.
