The sound of voices echoed in the hallway before the knock came. Julian didn't look up from his desk.
"Come in."
The door opened. Imade, his executive assistant, stepped inside holding a sleek leather folder.
"Meeting with the legal team is in ten minutes. You asked to review the internal audit summary before then."
Julian reached for the file. "Thanks. Any word from the PR firm?"
"They're waiting on your approval for the new campaign slogan."
He skimmed the document briefly, then looked up. "What are they proposing now?"
"'The Future, Rewritten.'" Imade gave a half-smile. "Bold."
Julian chuckled. "Sounds like a sci-fi movie. But not bad. Schedule a call after the legal team."
As Imade turned to leave, Julian paused. "Also… any trace of who sent that anonymous message yesterday?"
"Nothing definitive," she said, hesitating. "But the IT team traced the IP to an old company server. Could be internal."
Julian's expression darkened. "Keep digging."
Ten minutes later, the legal conference began.
Julian stood at the head of a glass table. His top legal counsel, Bola Enemuo, flicked through pages.
"We've received two class-action threats," Bola began. "Former contractors alleging misconduct during the last administration."
"Is any of it legit?" Julian asked.
"Some. The paper trail is shaky, but where there's smoke…"
"We'll handle it," Julian said firmly. "File early settlements. Show we're owning up."
"You sure?" Bola raised a brow. "That opens the floodgates."
"Then we ride the wave. We can't claim transparency and hide."
Bola nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll proceed."
"Good. And Bola—check internal communications. Someone's leaking."
Later that day, Julian entered one of the older wings of the building—storage for archived files, rarely visited. A man was waiting there.
Tunde Bakare, Head of Internal Security. Stocky, quiet, dangerous in a corporate way.
"You asked for the original acquisition files on Dominion Mining," Tunde said, handing over a dusty file. "Strange pick."
Julian flipped through it, frowning. "This deal made no sense on paper. Dominion was drowning in debt when we bought them. Yet somehow… they turned record profits last quarter?"
Tunde nodded. "Exactly. The numbers don't line up."
Julian closed the file. "I want everything. Their partners. Accountants. Shell companies. Someone's using us as a front."
"You think it links to your mother?"
Julian looked at him. "I think… someone didn't want her looking too deep. And now I'm finishing what she started."
Tunde gave a short nod. "Then watch your back. These aren't just businesspeople. They play in shadows."
Back upstairs, Julian stepped into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, a hand caught them.
Margaret Adediran.
She entered, cool and composed, pressing the top floor.
"We haven't spoken since the investor meeting," she said.
Julian didn't respond.
Margaret looked over. "You're making a lot of noise. Even people who supported you are starting to sweat."
"They should've been sweating a long time ago," Julian replied.
"You're too idealistic," she said. "This company was built by men who understood power. Not ethics."
Julian's gaze was firm. "Then maybe it's time someone rewrote the rules."
She turned to him, her voice low. "You think you're leading, but you're being led—by your need to prove yourself, by ghosts of people who aren't here anymore. You'll break yourself chasing justice."
"And you're afraid I'll succeed."
Margaret smirked. "No, Mr. King. I'm afraid you'll drag us all down with you."
The doors opened. She stepped out.
Julian stayed behind, jaw tight.
That night, back in his apartment, Julian sat alone on the balcony, reviewing Dominion Mining's ledger again. In the quiet, his phone buzzed.
Another message.
"Dig too deep, and you'll find what buried the last King."
Julian stared at the screen, pulse rising.
They knew. Whoever they were, they were watching his moves.
But this time, he wouldn't stop.
He wouldn't be afraid.
He would lead—and expose whoever thought they owned the shadows.