Chapter 2

As bold as Dale was, without James's indulgence—or his willingness to "sign with his eyes shut"—he could never have swapped the paperwork and funneled that fifty million into his own name.

What a masterstroke: toasting a man out of his command.

What a clever trick: killing the donkey the moment the millstone stops turning.

Since your Whitney family has decided I, Roy Fox, am too old to lift the knife, that I can be tossed aside like a used rag—

Then I'll teach you a lesson. I'll show you just how fast this tower, whose foundation I laid with my own hands, collapses once you pull out its backbone.

January 1st, the first day of the New Year holiday.

Ruicheng Group's senior management wasn't off, though, because the Starfish Bay project had left a pile of loose ends that needed a meeting to untangle.

At eight-thirty in the morning, I walked into the company building carrying a black cardboard box.

I didn't go to my own office. I went straight to the chairman's door and pushed it open.

James Whitney sat in his wide leather executive chair, happily puffing a Cuban cigar, listening to Dale lay out next year's "grand vision."

When he saw me come in, a flicker of panic crossed Dale's eyes, but he quickly squared his shoulders and put on a look that said, "What are you going to do about it?"

James stood up with a smile.

"Ah, Roy, Happy New Year! Come, come, sit down. Got your year-end bonus yesterday, didn't you? Fifty million, not a penny short! Enough to buy yourself a penthouse duplex downtown, eh?"

He played it so well—like an extraordinarily generous, magnanimous ruler.

I didn't sit. Instead I set the black box down on his rosewood desk, the one worth a few hundred thousand.

Then I drew a white envelope from my inside jacket pocket and laid it gently on top of the box.

"Chairman Whitney, Happy New Year. This is my resignation letter. In the box are my access card, my car keys, and my company laptop."

I looked at him, my tone as calm as if I were talking about the weather.

James froze. He didn't even notice the cigar ash dropping from his hand onto the expensive carpet.

"Roy, is this some kind of joke?"

James knitted his brow, his face darkening in an instant.

"I just approved a fifty-million year-end bonus for you, and you resign the very next day? Have you lost your mind?! You think it's too little? If it's too little, just say so!"

He snatched up the resignation letter and slammed it hard against my chest.

The letter fell to the floor. I didn't pick it up.

"Too little? The chairman really is generous."

I gave a cold laugh, took out my phone, pulled up the bank deposit notification, and flipped the screen right up to his face.

"Five hundred bucks. The chairman's fifty million shrank down pretty impressively, didn't it?"

The instant James made out the number on the screen, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Five... five hundred?!"

He whipped his head around and glared at Dale, who stood beside him drenched in cold sweat, his voice cracking.

"Dale! What is going on here?! I clearly authorized fifty million transferred into Roy's account in the finance system! What is this five hundred?!"

Dale flinched back a step and stammered out his excuse:

"Un... uncle, let me explain. On the Starfish Bay project, I'm the one in full control of the finances! Without me chasing down funding everywhere, could the project have ever come together? I figured Vice President Fox was getting old, that giving him fifty million was just money wasted. So... so I changed the bonus pool into a 'project coordination bonus' and... paid it into my account..."

"Bullshit!!!"

Enraged, James kicked over the coffee table beside him, glass shattering all over the floor.

"I told you to pay him fifty million, and you damn well dared to skim it for yourself?! Are you out of your mind?!"

James lunged forward, grabbed Dale by the collar, and swung a ringing slap across his face.

Smack!

Dale spun halfway around from the blow, blood instantly welling at the corner of his mouth.

"Uncle... you hit me?"

Dale covered his face, staring at James in disbelief.

"I'm your own nephew! Roy Fox is nothing but an outsider! So what if I took the fifty million? Didn't you say yesterday the company would be mine sooner or later?!"

That word—"outsider"—was like a razor-sharp boning knife, severing the last faint thread of attachment between me and this company.

"That's enough, Chairman Whitney. Stop acting."

I coldly cut off the uncle and nephew's little sob-story routine.

"Final financial approval requires your digital authorization key and iris verification. Without your authorization, he can't change the payee. Even if you really did 'sign without reading it carefully,' that only proves that in your heart, whatever your nephew does is right."

I straightened my jacket cuffs and turned to walk out.

"Roy! Roy! Let me explain!"

James panicked completely. Heedless of his image, he rushed over and grabbed my arm.

"This is a misunderstanding! I'll have finance wire you the fifty million right now! No—I'll give you eighty million! You can't leave! The Starfish Bay project still has three core suppliers who only deal with you. If you go, this whole thing is dead!"

I slowly turned my head and pried his tightly gripping fingers off, one by one.

"Too late, Chairman Whitney. Keep the five hundred—use it to buy funeral money for Ruicheng Group."

I pushed the office door open and walked into the elevator without looking back.

Behind me came James's desperate roar and the sound of things being smashed.

They thought I was only taking one person with me.

They had no idea that what I was taking was the lifeline of the entire Ruicheng Group.