The Empire Cracks
The Empire Cracks
Taylor’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “The Powell estate can’t even pay its utility bills anymore. They’ve shut down sections of the garden landscaping to cut costs. If that doesn’t prove the Powell family’s out of money, what does?”
“Wait, really?”
“No way. Powell Corporation is one of Silverburgh’s oldest powerhouses. Even if business took a hit, no way they’re that broke. Not paying utility bills? That’s rock bottom…”
Taylor went on, “If you still don’t believe it, take a look at the court rulings in these men’s hands–proof that Powell Corporation owes them money.
These aren’t corporations with deep pockets. They took huge risks to work with Powell, paying for production out of their own savings just to fulfill orders.
But Powell never paid them. Their businesses collapsed. Their familics fell into debt. And Powell Corporation used its size and influence to ignore their complaints, delaying payments endlessly. So they’ve come here today–because this is the only way they’ll be heard.”
One by one, the small business owners stepped forward, faces pale and strained, holding court documents with trembling hands.
“They’ve owed me six months of payments!”
“I fronted thirty million… Now I can’t even pay my daughter’s tuition. My wife’s been begging for a divorce and tried to take her life last week. She’s in the ICU!”
“And me–I have a court ruling in hand, and Powell still refuses to pay. I went to the media, and Paul sent men to beat me bloody! Then he paid off reporters to bury the story!
He’d rather bribe the press than settle his debts!”
“Paul, you bloodsucking bastard! You hoard every dime like you’re taking it to the grave!”
Paul’s temple twitched, a vein bulging in fury. “Security! Get them out of here! Call the police! Charge them with disturbing the peace!”
But the more aggressive he acted, the more enraged the business owners became. They closed in tighter, nearly nose–to–nose with Paul. “Call the cops! Go ahead. Let’s see who’s in the wrong!”
Surrounded, Paul began to panic. His eyes flicked around and his hand kept drifting toward his ear.
In her classroom at the medical university, Yunice watched via livestream. She leaned into her Bluetooth mic. “Taylor, he’s touching his ear/repeatedly. I think someone’s feeding him instructions.”
Taylor looked sharply at Paul–and sure enough, he kept palming his ear, tapping his fingers subtly.
She immediately recognized the signs. A covert earpiece. Morse–code style signaling. Paul was sending cues to whoever was coaching him from the shadows.
Not today.
Taylor took two bold steps forward and, without warning, reached through the crowd and slapped Paul hard across the face.
“Paul. are you even human? Pay these people their damn money!”
The slap landed with full force, sending him stumbling sideways.
Not only did the blow nearly rupture his cardrum, but it also knocked the hidden carpiece out of place. It let out a high–pitched whine before falling to the floor.
Before Paul could react, Taylor snatched it up.
He lunged in fury, but Alan grabbed his wrist and twisted it back. The crowd erupted.
“Good job, Miss Taylor!”
“She’s got more guts and integrity than Paul ever will! Powell Corporation needs someone like her to lead it!”
“Exactly! Paul’s a backstabbing snake–how is he running the show?”
A loud clang echoed through the room–someone had smashed the metal plaque declaring Paul as acting CEO of Powell Corporation.
Then chaos erupted.
Someone shoved, another kicked. Paul tripped, got caught in the frenzy, and hit the floor hard–unable to get back up.
Taylor stepped aside and looked down at the tiny earpiece in her hand. She narrowed her eyes and spoke directly into it.
“I don’t care who you are. If you dare back Paul, I will hunt you down and tear you apart, piece by piece.”
Far away, Nora dropped her phone in shock.
Her eyes flickered with unease. She noticed me? I was behind the scenes… How could she possibly know?
Taylor’s no ordinary opponent.
Realizing she could be traced, Nora quickly severed the connection and fled her hiding place.
Back at the press conference, Paul–now without guidance–couldn’t even think clearly, let alone defend himself.
Taylor, satisfied for now, finally stepped forward again.
“Well, Mr. Paul, I thought the company was doing well? Then surely you can spare a little change to pay these folks. Otherwise…”
She paused and smiled coldly.
…I’d be awfully worried someone might whack you with a steel pipe on your way home.”
