Chapter 12 – The Visit to ANG Corporation
Michael sat in the back of the black sedan, his eyes drifting to the city outside. The glass reflected his calm but sharp features as skyscrapers and crowded streets passed by. He rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. For a moment, his gaze caught a large park on the roadside. The car slowed at a red light.
There, through the glass, Michael saw a family of three—a father, a mother, and their small boy. They were laughing, a picnic spread laid neatly across the grass. The child ran around in circles as his father pretended to chase him, while the mother clapped in delight. The sight pulled Michael's lips into a faint smile. Quietly, he raised his phone and snapped a photo, capturing the warmth he could never truly touch.
The light turned green. With a heavy heart, the car moved forward, leaving the laughter behind.
Michael leaned forward.
"Driver, hurry up. We need to reach quickly."
"Yes, sir," the driver replied, pressing his foot hard against the gas.
Moments later, the sedan rolled to a stop in front of a towering glass building. The headquarters of ANG Corporation gleamed like a monument to wealth, arrogance carved into its very structure. Employees in suits hurried in and out, not knowing the kind of power that was about to walk through their doors.
The driver stepped out quickly and opened Michael's door.
Michael adjusted his cuffs, stepped onto the pavement, and without a word, strode towards the entrance.
Inside, the lobby smelled of polished marble and money. A receptionist looked up, startled, as Michael banged his hand against her desk.
"Where is the CEO?"
The receptionist blinked, startled. "Sir, do you have an appointment?"
Michael's voice cut like a blade. "Just call him and tell him Michael Visalla is here."
Her voice trembled. "Sir, you can't meet him without an appointment. Please… book one and then come back."
Michael didn't waste another second. Without replying, he marched towards the security gates. With a swift jump, he cleared them in one motion, moving straight for the elevators.
"Sir! You can't do this!" the receptionist shouted. "Security, stop him!"
Two guards rushed, but Michael slipped into the elevator, pressed the button for the 54th floor, and the doors closed before they could reach him.
When the elevator chimed open, two larger guards were already waiting. One stepped forward, voice firm.
"Sir, you need to come with us."
Michael tilted his head. "And what if I don't?"
"Please cooperate and don't create any unnecessary issues," the guard said, trying to keep it civil.
Michael smirked, stepped forward, and when the guards moved to grab him, he exploded into action. He seized one guard's wrist, twisted, and kicked the other square in the chest. As the second guard staggered back, Michael rammed his elbow into the first man's stomach. Both dropped, groaning in pain, as Michael walked past them casually—like nothing had happened.
He reached the CEO's office door and knocked.
"Come in," came the muffled voice.
Michael's boot slammed into the wood. The door burst open.
"Who dares—" the CEO's angry voice thundered, but when he turned and saw Michael standing there, his face went pale. He shot up from his chair, sweat instantly forming on his brow.
"Oh… Sir Michael! I—I didn't know you were coming."
Michael's tone was ice. "Do I need your permission to come here?"
"N-no, sir, of course not!" the man stuttered.
Michael took a seat opposite him. "I don't come here often. But your employees don't know who the Visallas are. Maybe it's time you educated them."
The CEO nodded frantically. "Y-yes sir. I will make sure of it."
The door burst open again—two guards from earlier barged in.
"Sir, this man—"
"Get out!" the CEO roared, slamming his fist against the desk. "How dare you touch Sir Michael! Leave this office immediately!"
The guards froze, confused.
"But sir, he was intruding—"
"Out!" the CEO screamed, his voice trembling with fear.
The guards backed out quickly. The room went silent again.
The CEO, still rattled, picked up the landline with shaking fingers. "Secretary… bring two cups of tea to my office. Now." He put the phone down and forced a smile.
"So… Sir Michael, what brings you here?"
Michael leaned forward, picking up a pen from the CEO's desk. He uncapped it slowly, his eyes never leaving the man.
"You know why I'm here."
The CEO swallowed. "I… I'm a bit confused, sir. Why are you—AHHH!"
Michael's hand shot out, driving the pen deep into the CEO's palm. The man screamed, clutching his bleeding hand.
"Y-you're crazy! What are you—"
"You bastard," Michael hissed. "How dare you pull out from the amusement park project? Just a year ago, this company was nothing. I made it what it is today. And you? You were a useless executive who couldn't even dream of entering this office. And now you have the guts to betray me?"
The CEO gasped through the pain. "S-sir! I never pulled out! I approved the funds!"
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Do you think I would doubt Nate's words?"
Still bleeding, the CEO fumbled with his words. "I swear! I—I signed the project approval! Please, check the files yourself!"
"Then bring them here!" Michael barked.
With his good hand, the CEO grabbed the phone again. "Bring me the amusement park project files… now!"
Moments later, a nervous worker entered, bowing to both men before placing the documents on the desk. Michael flipped through them. His eyes hardened. The approvals were there. The funds had indeed been released.
Michael's jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and dialed Nate.
"Hello, sir?" Nate's voice came through.
"How could you make such a mistake?" Michael snapped.
"Mistake? What do you mean?" Nate sounded surprised.
"I have the approval files in my hand. Signed. Sealed. The funds are there."
"That's… impossible," Nate stammered. "Sir, I received a call this morning—from someone at ANG. They said they were pulling out."
Michael's eyes flicked to the CEO, whose face was pale with confusion and fear.
"Forget it. Move forward with the plans. We have the funds."
"Yes, sir. I'll look into it now," Nate said before hanging up.
Michael leaned in close to the CEO. His voice was calm but deadly.
"Find out who made that call. Someone in your company thought they could play games with me. I don't care how many employees you have—find him. And when you do… send him to the Visalla estate."
He turned, heading for the door. Just before leaving, he glanced back.
"Maybe that'll be the last time you see him alive."
The CEO froze, clutching his bleeding hand, as Michael disappeared through the door.
Downstairs, as he crossed the lobby, the receptionist hurried to him, bowing deeply.
"I—I'm sorry, sir! I didn't recognize you earlier!"
Michael didn't even glance at her. He walked straight outside, where his driver already had the car waiting.
Before stepping in, Michael paused. He lifted his head and looked up at the towering glass structure of ANG Corporation. His expression was unreadable—something between contempt and cold amusement. Then he got into the car.
"Home," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," the driver replied, and the sedan pulled away, leaving the corporate giant trembling in Michael's wake.
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