Chapter 3 - The Archive Intrusion**
On the high-definition security monitor, the dim lights of the fourth-floor archives flickered on. Standing in the middle of the secure records room, frantically shuffling through confidential financial ledgers and corporate ownership documents, was none other than Claire.
How she had managed to bypass the digital locks was initially a mystery, but then I remembered: months ago, during a routine system update, I had left my master administrative override card on our kitchen island, and Claire had insisted on "filing" it for me. She must have copied the cryptographic key card before returning it.
I watched through the camera feed as Claire threw open a secure metal filing cabinet, pulling out the original founding partnership agreements of Whitaker Construction—documents that clearly proved I was the sole 100% owner of the multi-million-dollar corporation, long before I ever met her, and long before her father ever managed to worm his way onto our payroll.
Her phone was pressed tightly to her ear. Within seconds, my own cell phone buzzed on the boardroom table.
It was Claire.
I swiped to answer, keeping my voice completely devoid of emotion. “It’s Christmas morning, Claire. Shouldn't you be opening champagne with your golden family?”
“Don’t play games with me, Daniel,” Claire hissed through the phone, her voice frantic and laced with sudden panic. She was pacing frantically among the filing racks on the security feed. “I came to the office to pick up some personal tax documents I left in storage, but… I logged into the master database. Daniel, what is this? Why does the corporate registry list you as the sole founder and 100% majority shareholder of Whitaker Construction? Why does it say the company valuation is $16.9 million?!”
I leaned back slowly in my leather executive chair, letting out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “You’re reading correctly, Claire. I own the company.”
“Stop lying!” she shrieked, her voice echoing faintly through the empty floor below. “You’re a handyman! You fix broken drywall and unclog commercial toilets! My father said you were a glorified laborer who couldn't survive a single month without our family’s support! My dad is the senior vice president of regional operations! My brother is the director of supply chain! You’re just… you’re just a nobody!”
“Ask your father who founded Whitaker Construction in 2012,” I replied calmly. “Ask him whose venture capital cleared the bank debts when his own real estate firm went bankrupt twenty years ago. Oh wait, you can't ask him that, because Martin begged me to keep my identity secret so he wouldn't look like a failure in front of his golf club buddies.”
A heavy silence hung on the line. I could hear Claire’s ragged breathing over the connection. On the screen, I watched her hands tremble as she clutched the original founding documents, her eyes scanning the signature block bearing my name, written in bold black ink a decade ago.
“No…” she whispered, the color draining entirely from her face. “No, this isn't real. This is a fake. You forged this to trick me! When my father sees this—!”
“Your father won't be seeing anything at his office today, Claire,” I interrupted softly. “Because as of five minutes ago, every single member of the Collins family currently on our payroll has just received their official termination notice for gross misconduct, financial fraud, and embezzlement.”
“You… you did what?” she screamed.
May you like
“Merry Christmas, Claire,” I said, and calmly ended the call.
---
