After leaving the Headmistress's office, a new, potent sense of legitimacy settled over me. We weren't just a vigilante guild anymore; we were a sanctioned force, an unofficial scalpel authorized to carve out the cancer that was rotting Northwood High from the inside. I walked with Tiffany, the silence between us no longer awkward or strained, but filled with a new, unspoken understanding forged in the heat of a real crisis. We had been through a firefight together. That changes things.
"What's next?" I asked, my mind already churning with a dozen new possibilities, the sanction from her mother opening up a hundred new strategic pathways.
"Anna said she wanted to tell us something," Tiffany replied, her tone as cool and analytical as ever. "She said it was urgent."
We went to meet her in the guild room. The familiar, dusty space felt different now, less like a hideout and more like a command center. She had a small, sleek black box waiting for us on the table, looking completely out of place amidst the old, battered furniture. She pushed it towards me. "Leader," she began, a quiet pride in her voice that was a world away from the timid girl I had first met. "Here is everything you demanded."
I opened it. Inside, nestled in custom-fit foam, was an arsenal of high-tech spy gear that would make a secret agent weep with joy. There was a set of digital and physical master keys, capable of unlocking anything from a simple deadbolt to a complex electronic lock. There were cameras and microphones so small they were practically invisible, no bigger than the head of a pin. And a set of communicators, no bigger than a grain of rice, that could be inserted into the ear canal.
"And this," she said, handing me a small, metallic chip, thin as a piece of paper, "is for your phone. Install it, and you'll be able to track the location of anyone on our team in real-time. It's also linked to their emotional state. If anyone is in danger, if their fear levels spike, you'll get an immediate alert."
I took the chip, a genuine smile spreading across my face. The weight of responsibility for my team was a heavy thing, and this… this was a way to manage it. "That's amazing, Anna. You're a genius."
She blushed, a rare and beautiful sight. "I'm just happy I can help," she said. "And I'm happy both of you are safe. I also got access to Melissa Richard's and her husband's phones, and a few other important people."
"What did you find?" I asked, my voice turning serious.
"I found so many things about Steve," she said, her own voice hardening. "He is definitely cheating on his wife, and he has over one million Exo coins in the form of black money."
Tiffany let out a low whistle. "He's not just a cheater; he's a seriously corrupt person. Quite greedy."
I felt a slow, predatory grin spread across my face. "If you have access, then you have proof of all the black money, the crimes, and the cheating."
"Yes, I have everything," Anna confirmed.
"Can you… whitewash all the money and assets he has illegally?" I asked, the plan already forming in my mind.
Tiffany looked at me, a new kind of awe in her eyes. "You're not just going to get him arrested," she said, her voice a low murmur. "You're going to literally drain him. You're going to take his wife, his daughter, destroy his career, and make him penniless."
"I can do it," Anna said, her own voice cold as ice. "I can whitewash all the money. We can use it, and we won't get caught. The police will just think he hid the money somewhere before he was arrested."
"Okay," I said. "First, tell me all of his crimes."
"He let a murderer go for money," Anna began, her voice a flat, emotionless report. "He has another wife and a son. He only married Melissa for her position, so no one would doubt that he was corrupt. And he even has connections with the underworld, with drug cartels and the Vulture Gang."
"Okay," I said, my mind racing, the pieces of a new, more vicious strategy clicking into place. "Here's the new plan. First, the photos Tiffany took at the bar—the ones of me and Melissa laughing, dancing. I want you to send those to her husband, Steve, from an anonymous account."
Anna and Tiffany both looked at me, confused. "To him?" Anna asked. "Not to Melissa?"
"Exactly," I said, my grin widening. "Steve is an arrogant, insecure man. Seeing his powerful wife enjoying herself with a younger man will drive him insane. He'll get suspicious. He'll get angry. He'll confront her, accuse her of cheating, and make her life a living hell."
A slow, dawning understanding spread across Tiffany's face, followed by a look of profound, chilling respect. "You're going to gaslight him into attacking his own wife," she breathed. "You're going to make Melissa feel guilty and cornered, even though she did nothing wrong."
"And then," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "when she is at her lowest point, when she's upset and feeling guilty, that's when you make your move, Anna. You send her everything. The photos of Steve with his other family, the real evidence of his affairs. You don't just prove her innocence; you shatter her entire world. The man who was just accusing her will be revealed as the true monster."
"And she will definitely come to you for support," Tiffany finished for me, a slow, predatory smile on her own face. "And while she's with you, Anna will release all of his crimes on the web, with proof. But before that, she'll acquire all of his assets and money, so he can't run."
"That's a perfect plan," I said. "But what about the Ruthless Animals?"
"We found out they run an illegal gambling ring," Anna said. "And they have backing from the Vulture Gang."
"Then what is Steve's role in this?" I asked.
"He gets a commission," Anna replied. "Our spies are working on finding the location. We'll ambush their place and capture it."
"Okay, everything is fine," I said. "What about our own ambush?"
"I'm already prepared," Tiffany said, her voice full of a new, confident energy. "Before they ambush us, we will ambush them. Charles is not much of a threat, and Peter Evans is acrobatic, but we can handle him. The only issue is Nanami Honoka."
"Capture her," I said, my voice a cold, simple command.
Tiffany looked at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "What? Why?"
"Just capture her," I repeated. "Also, do I need to join the fight?"
"No," she said, her voice firm. "You don't need to join. We will handle it. I will be the one leading."
"Okay," I said.
"Now that our important talks are complete," Tiffany said, "Nari is coming to meet Christine. You need to be present."
"Okay," I said with a sigh. "There are so many things to do. And when are we going to dinner at your home?"
"Tonight," she replied.
"Okay. Whatever. I don't have any more meetings."
We reached the Phoenix Capital Group headquarters. After changing into a more professional outfit, we both went to the boardroom. I was leaning back in my chairperson's seat, listening as Tiffany gave a clipped, efficient summary of our initial market analysis. Across from me, my mom—no, Joyce, the CEO—was absorbing every word, her expression one of intense focus, the lines of worry I was so used to seeing completely gone. Beside her, Aunt Christine was sketching a logo on a notepad, a stylized phoenix with wings of pure flame, a small, genuine smile on her lips.
The door opened, and Lily Harrison walked in, her presence commanding the room. In her tailored navy-blue suit, she was no longer a teacher; she was the formidable Head of Human Resources, and she looked every inch the part.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice a calm, professional melody. "Thank you for your patience. I'm pleased to announce that our two newest senior recruits have arrived."
She stepped aside, holding the door open.
And then they walked in.
My heart didn't just skip a beat; it performed a full drum solo against my ribs and then tried to exit through my throat. My professional, kingly composure shattered into a million tiny, panicked pieces.
It was them. Marilyn and Aila Johansson.
Marilyn was the picture of mature, corporate glamour. She wore a sharp, cream-colored pantsuit that hugged her voluptuous curves, her voluminous blonde curls tamed into an elegant, professional style. Her eyes, full of a cool, intelligent confidence, scanned the room before landing on me. For a fraction of a second, I saw a flicker of raw, unadulterated heat in them, a memory of the previous night, before she masked it with a polite, professional smile.
Aila was a vision of youthful rebellion crammed into a business-casual package. She wore a sleek, black turtleneck and high-waisted grey trousers, her long, blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Her expression was a perfect imitation of her mother's cool confidence, but I could see the mischievous, sultry fire dancing in her eyes as they met mine.
Oh, hell, I thought, my mind racing. Act normal. You've never seen these women before in your life. You are a normal chairperson meeting your new employees. You did NOT spend an entire night in a tangle of limbs with them. Be normal.
"Everyone," Lily began, completely oblivious to the silent, high-stakes drama unfolding before her. "I'd like to introduce Marilyn and Aila Johansson. Marilyn comes to us as one of the most respected chartered accountants and legal advisors in the city, with over Ten years of experience. And Aila is a recent top graduate from Grand Metropolis University, specializing in corporate law and finance. They will be the foundation of our new legal and financial departments."
A polite murmur of appreciation went around the table. Joyce and Christine both looked impressed, giving the mother-daughter duo warm, welcoming smiles.
"It's a pleasure to have you with us," Joyce said, her CEO voice firm and steady. "We're building something special here, and we're glad you're a part of it."
"We are expecting excellent work from both of you," Christine added.
Marilyn stepped forward, extending a hand to Joyce. "The pleasure is all ours, CEO," she said, her voice a low, husky purr. Then, her eyes drifted back to me. "The Chairperson has created a very… compelling vision."
Aila just gave me a small, almost imperceptible wink.
Tiffany, who missed nothing, raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
I was calm and neutral, no sign of stress or discomfort. I stood up, my own voice impossibly calm, a chilling, dominating aura radiating from me. "Mrs. Johansson, Miss Johansson," I said. "On behalf of Phoenix Capital Group, I'd like to extend the warmest of welcomes. We're thrilled to have talent of your caliber joining our team."
As I spoke, my [Advanced Appraisal] skill was already working overtime, the familiar white panels shimmering into existence in my vision.
Status:
Name: Marilyn Johansson
Strength: 95
Agility: 105
Endurance: 110
Mentality: 310
Intelligence: 355
Mana: 0
Potential: A+
Skills: [Mastery in Corporate Law], [Expert Financial Analyst], [Contract Negotiation], [Asset Management], [Labyrinth of Ledgers]
Passive Skills: [Unwavering Composure], [Hidden Depths], [Sensual Aura (Dormant)], [Gilded Cage]
Superpower: [None]
Soul Ledger: [My Only Desire] & [My King]
Status:
Name: Aila Johansson
Strength: 120
Agility: 135
Endurance: 140
Mentality: 280
Intelligence: 310
Mana: 0
Potential: S
Skills: [Corporate Law (Expert)], [Financial Modelling (Expert)], [Litigation Strategy], [Venomous Precedent]
Passive Skills: [Rebellious Spirit], [Innocent Charm], [Untapped Passion], [Reckless Abandon]
Superpower: [None]
Soul Ledger: [My First True Man] & [His Wild Card]
Oh, hell, I thought again, this time with a fresh wave of panic. Their Soul Ledgers… they had completely changed. The devotion was absolute.
"It's an honor to be here, Chairperson," Marilyn said, her voice smooth as silk, though her eyes were devouring me.
"Yes, Chairperson," Aila echoed, her own gaze a little too intense, a little too hungry.
"Please," I said, gesturing to the empty chairs. "Have a seat."
Marilyn took the seat directly opposite me, her movements a study in fluid grace. Aila, however, walked around the table and, to everyone's surprise, pulled up a chair and squeezed it in right beside mine.
"I find I work best when I'm close to the source of… inspiration," she said, giving me a bright, innocent smile that was anything but.
Isabel, who had just walked in with a fresh stack of files, froze in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. A low, dangerous growl rumbled in my chest, a possessive instinct I hadn't even realized was there. Anna also came in and had a look of curiosity on her face.
"Okay, ladies, please take a seat," I said. I activated my skills, [President], [Chanakya], [King's Aura], and then looked straight at them. I said in a deep voice, "First, Mrs. Johansson and Miss Johansson. Can you tell us who is more efficient in finance and who is more efficient in law?"
They both looked at each other. Aila said, "Chairperson, I am more efficient in legal matters."
Marilyn said, "I am more efficient with finance."
Then I turned my gaze to Lily. "So, which department are they handling, Miss Harrison?"
Lily said, "I am designating Mrs. Marilyn as our Chief Financial Officer and Miss Aila as our Chief Legal Officer. Because they are the best in their respective fields."
Tiffany said, "If Miss Harrison says so, then it must be true, because she is a very skilled person. And I am expecting you to contribute to Phoenix Capital Group, because we have a very huge ambition ."
They both nodded. Then, I said, "Okay, everyone is dismissed."
Lily stood up and said to every board member, "Now, everyone, please proceed to the hall for the address to the new recruits. In a few moments, Miss Stacy will also be joining us."
We all went to the conference hall.
The air in the main conference hall of Phoenix Capital Group was electric.
The room itself was a monument to our ambition, a cavernous space on the seventieth floor with a single, massive wall of glass that offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of Grand Metropolis. But the view was nothing compared to the sight inside. Seated in neat, orderly rows were over fifty new employees, the first soldiers in our new army. They were all young, fresh-faced graduates from the top universities in the country, their expressions a mixture of awe, nervousness, and a burning, hungry ambition. They were the blank slates Lily had talked about, the raw clay we were about to mold into the foundation of our empire.
On the raised dais at the front of the room, my court was assembled. Joyce, Christine, Lily, Isabel, Tiffany, Anna, Marilyn, and Aila. Each of them was a vision of power and beauty, a queen in her own right. And at the center of it all, two empty chairs waited. One for Stacy, and one for me.
The doors at the back of the hall opened, and Stacy made her entrance. She moved with a regal, confident grace, her cream-colored halter top and black pencil skirt a timeless statement of elegance and power. A hush fell over the room as she walked to the podium, every eye in the hall fixed on her.
She stood there for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the crowd of new recruits, a slow, predatory smile on her lips. "Welcome," she began, her voice a smooth, confident purr that filled the silent room without any need for a microphone. "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. My name is Stacy Brooklyn, and I am the co-chairperson of Phoenix Capital Group."
She paused, letting the weight of her title settle in the air. "Each and every one of you is here today because you are the best. The brightest. The most ambitious graduates this country has to offer. You were chosen because we don't just see you as employees; we see you as assets. As investments. And here at Phoenix Capital," she said, her smile widening, "we expect a very, very high return on our investments."
A ripple of nervous energy went through the crowd.
"You are not here to do a job," she continued, her voice turning sharp as steel. "You are here to build an empire. You will be pushed harder than you have ever been pushed before. You will be expected to deliver results that your peers at other companies can only dream of. Some of you will break. Some of you will quit. But those of you who survive… those of you who thrive… you will not just have a career. You will have a legacy."
She stepped back from the podium, her speech a perfect, brutal cocktail of inspiration and intimidation. The room was dead silent, the new recruits looking both terrified and utterly captivated.
Then, Tiffany stepped forward. She was a stark, beautiful contrast to Stacy's glamorous warmth. In her bronze silk blouse and tailored black trousers, she was the picture of cold, analytical efficiency.
"Good morning," she began, her voice a crisp, emotionless monotone. "My name is Tiffany Watson. I am a co-founder of this company. Miss Brooklyn has spoken to you about ambition. I am here to speak to you about data."
She gestured to the massive smart wall behind her, which flickered to life, displaying a complex, dizzying array of market trend analyses and performance metrics. "Ambition without strategy is just a wish. Here, we do not wish. We calculate. Every decision we make, every investment, every move, is driven by one thing and one thing only: verifiable, actionable intelligence. Your creativity is an asset, but your adherence to our data-driven methodology is a requirement."
She looked out at the sea of faces, her green eyes missing nothing. "You will be given the best tools, the most advanced analytical software on the planet. In return, you will provide us with one thing: results. There are no excuses here. There is only success, or there is failure." Her voice dropped, becoming colder, harder, a chilling edge that sent a shiver through the room. "And let me be perfectly clear. We do not tolerate failure. Failure is a liability. It is a weakness in the system that must be purged. We are building a perfect machine here, and we cannot afford a single faulty gear. A loss is not a learning experience; it is a catastrophic event that threatens everything we are building. The market does not forgive, and neither do we. Weak links will be severed. Without hesitation. Welcome to the team."
She stepped back, her own speech a chillingly effective dose of pure, unadulterated logic, a perfect showcase of her [Toxic Boss] and [Fear of Loss] personas. The recruits now looked not just terrified, but profoundly humbled.
Then, Lily stood. She walked to the podium not with the sharp confidence of Stacy or the cold precision of Tiffany, but with a quiet, steady grace that was just as powerful.
"Good morning," she said, her voice a calm, reassuring melody that seemed to instantly lower the tension in the room. "My name is Lily Harrison, and I am the Head of Human Resources." She offered the crowd a small, genuine smile. "I know that what you've just heard may sound… intimidating. And it is. The standards here are impossibly high. But I want to talk to you about the other side of that equation. I want to talk about potential."
She looked out at them, not as a group, but as individuals, her turquoise eyes seeming to make a personal connection with each of them. "For years, I was a teacher. My job was to look at a classroom full of students and see not just who they were, but who they could become. I see the same thing in this room today. I see future analysts, future strategists, future leaders. My job here is not to weed out the weak. My job is to give you the tools and the support you need to discover the strength you don't even know you have."
"Miss Watson is right," she continued, her voice firm but not unkind. "We do not tolerate failure. But we also do not expect perfection. We expect growth. We expect resilience. We expect you to fall, and we expect you to get back up, stronger and smarter than before. My door will always be open. We will provide you with the training, the mentorship, and the resources you need to succeed. Because here at Phoenix Capital, we understand that our greatest asset isn't our capital or our data; it's you. Welcome to the team."
She stepped back, and a wave of relieved, appreciative applause washed over the room. She had taken the fear Stacy and Tiffany had instilled and transformed it into a challenge, a promise of growth.
Then, my mom stood up. Joyce. She walked to the podium, and the entire atmosphere in the room shifted again. In her muted coral suit, she was not the intimidating predator like Stacy, nor the cold analyst like Tiffany, nor the inspiring mentor like Lily. She was something else entirely. She was a leader.
Joyce's internal thought: Oh, God. I can't do this. They're all so young, so full of hope. What can I possibly say to them? Adam believes in me. Christine, Lily… they all believe in me. I can't let them down. I can't let him down. Just breathe, Joyce. You've managed a family for years. This is just… a bigger family.
She reached the podium and looked out at the crowd, a warm, genuine, and slightly nervous smile on her face. "Good morning, everyone," she began, her voice a little shaky at first, but growing stronger with every word. "My name is Joyce Wilson, and I am the CEO of Phoenix Capital Group."
"I know what you're all thinking," she continued, her smile widening. "You've just been addressed by three of the most brilliant and formidable women you will ever meet. You're probably wondering what a woman like me is doing up here."
A few nervous chuckles went through the crowd.
"I'm not a genius strategist," she said, her voice full of a humble sincerity that was instantly disarming. "I'm not a ruthless corporate raider. I'm a mother. And for years, my only job was to manage the most important, most volatile, and most precious company in the world: my family."
"I learned that a company isn't about spreadsheets or market data," she said, her gaze sweeping over the young faces before her. "It's about people. It's about creating an environment where talented individuals feel safe enough to take risks, supported enough to grow, and valued enough to give their absolute best. Miss Brooklyn and Miss Watson have told you about the high standards we expect. And they are right. But I am here to make you a promise. While you are a part of this company, you are a part of our family. We will push you, yes. But we will also protect you. We will invest in your growth. We will celebrate your successes, and we will help you learn from your failures. We are not just building an empire here. We are building a home. And I am so, so happy to welcome you all home."
She stepped back from the podium, and the room, which had been silent with a mixture of fear and awe, erupted in a wave of spontaneous, heartfelt applause. She hadn't just given them a speech; she had given them a reason to believe.
After Joyce, a new wave of energy filled the room as Isabel strode to the podium. In her sharp, black tuxedo dress, she was a bolt of pure, unapologetic power.
"Alright, listen up," she began, her voice sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering warmth of my mom's speech. "My name is Isabel Wilson, and I'm your Chief Operating Officer. That means I'm the one who makes sure the trains run on time. Our CEO just told you this is a family. And she's right. But I'm the big sister in this family. The one who makes sure you do your chores."
A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crowd.
"Let me be blunt," she said, leaning forward, her eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive fire. "I am loyal to one person in this room above all others: our Chairperson, Adam Wilson. My job is to execute his vision, and I will not tolerate anything or anyone that gets in the way of that. I expect efficiency. I expect dedication. And I expect you to be ready to work harder than you ever thought possible. If you're not, the door is right there. But if you are... then welcome to the winning team."
She stepped back, her message a perfect, brutal blend of loyalty and a demand for excellence.
Next, Anna walked to the podium, her movements still a little timid, but with a new, quiet confidence in her eyes. She clutched a small tablet to her chest like a shield.
"Hi," she began, her voice a soft murmur that still managed to carry in the silent room. "My name is Anna Brown. I'm a co-founder. I'm... I'm not a public speaker. I work with data. I find the secrets that other people try to hide."
She looked out at the crowd, and for the first time, a small, genuine smile touched her lips. "A few weeks ago, I was invisible. I was someone people looked through, not at. But our Chairperson saw something in me. He gave me a chance. And that's what this company is about. It's about finding the hidden potential, the value that everyone else has overlooked. You are all here because we see that potential in you. And my job is to give you the tools you need to unlock it. I will build the systems that will make us the smartest, most efficient company on the planet. And together... we will show the world what they missed."
She finished, and a wave of warm, appreciative applause filled the room. She had spoken directly to the heart of every person there who had ever felt overlooked.
Then, Marilyn and Aila walked to the podium together, a stunning, formidable duo of blonde ambition. Marilyn spoke first, her voice a low, husky purr that was pure, captivating confidence.
"Good morning. I am Marilyn Johansson, your new Chief Financial Officer. I'm here to talk about money. Our money." She let a slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "We have a lot of it. But capital is not just a resource; it's a weapon. And I am an expert in wielding it. My job is to ensure that every Funo we spend is a bullet aimed at the heart of our competition. We will be ruthless. We will be precise. And we will be profitable."
She stepped back, and Aila stepped forward, her own energy a youthful, rebellious fire.
"I'm Aila Johansson," she said, her voice sharp and clear. "Your new Chief Legal Officer. And I'm here to tell you that the law is not a shield. It's a sword. Our competitors will come at us with contracts and lawsuits, trying to tie us up in red tape. My job is to cut that tape. We will not be on the defensive. We will be the predators. We will use the law to dismantle our enemies, to bankrupt them, to tear their foundations out from under them. We will not just win in the market; we will win in the courtroom."
They stepped back together, a perfect, terrifying one-two punch of financial and legal dominance. The recruits looked completely shell-shocked, their minds reeling from the sheer, overwhelming power of the women who would be leading them.
Then, my aunt, Christine, approached the podium. She moved with an effortless, fluid grace that instantly captured every eye in the room. In her elegant, pale blue suit, she was a vision of serene confidence.
"Hello, everyone," she began, her voice a warm, elegant melody that was a stark, beautiful contrast to the sharp, aggressive tones that had come before. "My name is Christine Holmes, and I am the Head of Public Relations and Brand Development."
She looked out at the sea of faces, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "You have heard about ambition, about data, about family. I am here to talk to you about something a little more… illusory. I'm here to talk about the story."
"I have spent my entire life in an industry built on illusions," she continued, a flicker of a painful memory in her lilac eyes before it was gone. "I know the power of an image. I know that perception is reality. Our competitors will try to paint us as villains, as ruthless upstarts. And you know what? We will let them."
A murmur of confusion went through the crowd.
"Our brand will not be built on apologies," she said, her voice gaining a new, powerful resonance. "It will be built on three pillars: Power, Precision, and Principle. We will project an image of absolute, unshakable power. Every move we make, every statement we release, will be a masterpiece of calculated precision. But most importantly, we will build a reputation for having a principle that our competitors lack: dignity. We will not exploit our people. We will not compromise our integrity for a quick profit. We will be the company that is not just successful, but respected. They can call us predators, but the world will see us as pioneers. We will not just control the market; we will control the narrative."
She finished, and a new kind of applause filled the room—not just of excitement, but of a deep, profound understanding. They weren't just joining a company; they were joining a cause.
Finally, it was my turn.
I stood up and walked to the podium, my movements slow and deliberate. The applause died down, and a new kind of silence fell over the room, a silence of pure, unadulterated anticipation.
I didn't just stand at the podium; I stood in front of it, closing the distance between me and them. I looked out at the sea of faces, and as I did, I activated my skills. [King's Aura], [Great Leader], [President].
The air in the room shifted, becoming thick, heavy, charged with an unseen authority.
"My name is Adam Wilson," I began, my voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate in the very bones of everyone present. "And I am the co-chairperson of this company."
I paused, letting my gaze sweep over every single person in the room, making a silent, personal connection with each of them.
"You have heard from our leadership," I continued, my voice gaining a new, analytical edge. "And what a leadership team it is." I turned, gesturing to the dais behind me, where my court sat, a pantheon of beautiful, powerful women.
"Look at them," I said, my voice full of a fierce, possessive pride. "You see our co-chairperson, Stacy Brooklyn, the very embodiment of ambition. You see our co-founder, Tiffany Watson, a mind that sees the world in pure, cold, and profitable data. You see our Head of HR, Lily Harrison, a woman who can find the diamond in the rough, the hidden potential in all of you. You see our CEO, Joyce Wilson, the heart of this company, the woman who will turn this empire into a home."
My gaze moved down the line. "You see our COO, Isabel Wilson, the steel in our spine, the one who will ensure our vision is executed with flawless precision. You see our other co-founder, Anna Brown, the ghost in the machine, the architect of the systems that will make us untouchable. You see our CFO and CLO, Marilyn and Aila Johansson, the twin vipers who will wield our capital and the law as weapons. And you see our Head of PR, Christine Holmes, the weaver of stories, the woman who will shape our legend."
I turned back to the crowd, my eyes blazing. "This is not just a board of directors. This is a court of queens. And they are the foundation upon which we will build our new world."
"Now," I said, my voice dropping, becoming colder, more tactical. "Let's talk about that new world. Look out that window. What do you see? A monument to progress? A thriving metropolis? I see a battlefield. A chessboard. And it is run by old men with old ideas, by corrupt systems that reward mediocrity and punish innovation. They are dinosaurs, sitting on their fossilized thrones, completely unaware that the meteor is already on its way."
I let a slow, predatory smile spread across my face. "We are that meteor. But we will not be a mindless force of destruction. We will be a surgical strike. We are not just an investment firm. We are a revolution. And every revolution requires a strategy."
I started to pace in front of them, my energy filling the room, a caged tiger about to be unleashed.
"Our competitors, they are slow. They are arrogant. They believe their power is absolute. That is their greatest weakness. They fight with brute force—leveraged buyouts, hostile takeovers. We will fight with intelligence. We will be faster, smarter, and more ruthless than any of them. We will not just follow the market; we will create it. We will not just build a company; we will forge a new world from the ashes of the old one."
"They will call us predators. They will call us villains. And we will wear those titles as a badge of honor. Because in a world of sheep, the wolf is king. We will not ask for power; we will take it. We will not wait for our turn; we will cut to the front of the line. We will find their weaknesses, their hidden debts, their secret shames, and we will use them to dismantle their empires, piece by piece, until all that is left is the ground upon which we will build our own."
I stopped, my gaze locking onto a young man in the front row, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and a dawning, fanatical excitement.
"You are not just employees," I said, my voice rising, ringing with a power that was both terrifying and inspiring. "You are the architects of that new world. You are the first generation of a new kind of power. You are the sharp edge of the blade. You are the Phoenix. And today… today is the day we rise."
The silence that followed was absolute. It stretched for a full, heart-stopping second. Then, one person, then another, then the entire room, erupted. It wasn't just applause. It was a roar. A primal, deafening roar of absolute, unwavering devotion. They were on their feet, their faces transformed, their earlier nervousness incinerated in the fire of my words. They weren't just new recruits anymore. They were my army.