The next morning, Ken put on the custom suit his grandfather had left him and stood in front of 23 Wall Street — the revolving doors of Richard Group's headquarters. His fingertips traced over the company logo etched into the glass, and a cold sneer tugged at his lips.
Last life, I came here like a fool, thinking I was "helping family save the company," pulling all-nighters fixing proposals only to have the credit stolen. This life, I'm here to take back what's mine — and rip off Sophia's pathetic disguise.
As soon as he stepped into the elevator, he ran into Sophia's assistant, Linda. The woman's eyes went wide with surprise, but she forced a polite smile.
"Mr. Ken, what brings you here? Looking for President Sophia?"
"Yeah, something I need to talk to her about." Ken's tone was flat, though inside he laughed coldly. Linda must think I'm here again to 'help for free.' Last life, every time the company hit a wall, I showed up just like this.
The elevator stopped at the 28th floor — Sophia's office. The hallway was muffled in thick carpet, walls lined with framed photos of Richard posing with politicians, all screaming "financial giant." Ken walked straight to the door with the plate Executive President Office, pushed it open without knocking.
Sophia sat behind her desk, pretending to work, fresh Blue Mountain coffee steaming at her side. On the desk lay a folder labeled Morgan Stanley Financing — Merger Proposal.
Ken's eyes narrowed instantly. Of course. Same half-assed proposal as last time. Not even patched. Even that embarrassing "New York branch revenue inflated by three million" mistake is still there.
"Well, look who it is — the rare guest." Sophia glanced up, a flicker of panic flashing before she slapped on a fake warm smile. She stood, offering the coffee. "What brings you here all of a sudden? Did Mom or Dad send you?"
Ken ignored the cup. He walked to the desk, picked up the proposal, flipped straight to the flawed page. Just like before. Last life, I stayed up three nights recalculating Chicago branch's assets to plug this hole. She, of course, just handed my work to the board with her name on it.
"This proposal's for Morgan Stanley?" he asked calmly, finger tapping the data.
Sophia's gaze flickered. She forced herself to sound composed. "Yeah. The financing meeting's next week. This is the final version. Why? Something wrong with it?"
"It's riddled with problems." Ken tossed the folder back on the desk, raising his voice a notch. Now it's time you learn — without me, you can't even get a proposal past page one.
He stabbed his finger at the data. "New York branch revenue — you counted projected numbers, not actual receipts. That's three million off. Chicago branch's acquisition costs — you forgot employee severance. You think Morgan Stanley's analysts won't catch this? Financing's dead in the water."
Sophia's face drained of color, but she clung to her excuse. "I… I did that on purpose. Just wanted to test if you'd catch it. You studied business analysis in Boston, I knew you'd notice."
Ken laughed outright. That excuse again. Last life, I actually believed her. Fixed everything for her, then watched her brag to Richard that she "spotted the errors herself."
"On purpose?" His tone dripped with mockery. "Then tell me, when Morgan Stanley asks why you used projections instead of actuals, what's your answer? 'My brother fixed it for me'?"
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Cornered, she tried moral blackmail: "Ken, please. This financing's critical. If it falls through, Dad will explode. Just help me tweak it, like last year with the Chicago branch. You're the only one who understands this stuff."
"Last year?"
Ken pulled a battered notebook from his pocket — the same one from his sleepless nights in Boston. The penciled calculations were still there. I knew she'd bring up last year. That's why I came armed.
He tossed the notebook onto the desk. "You mean last year, when I stayed up three nights recalculating Chicago branch's valuation from a five-million-dollar loss to a two-million-dollar profit?"
Sophia froze. She recognized the logic scrawled across the pages. It was identical to what she'd later presented to the board — only she'd changed "Ken helped" into "team effort."
"You… you kept this?" Her voice trembled.
"Of course. I'm not in the habit of letting others steal my work."
Ken leaned back in the chair, eyes fixed on her. Time to lay down terms. Everything you owed me last life, I'll reclaim now.
"You want me to fix this proposal? Fine. Two conditions. One: transfer me 5% of Richard Group's preferred shares, voting rights included. Two: I attend the financing meeting from start to finish. Every revision must clearly credit 'Ken Howard assisted.' Miss one condition, I don't lift a finger. If the deal tanks, you explain it to Dad."
Sophia shot to her feet, slamming the desk. "Ken! Are you insane? Five percent preferred shares? Do you know how much that's worth? We're siblings — how can you talk money with me?"
"Siblings?" Ken laughed coldly. Last life, I treated you like family. You treated me like a tool. And now you play the sibling card? Too late.
"Last year, I saved you twenty million in bonuses. Did you give me a dime? At the board meeting, did you mention my name once? You talk about 'siblings' now — do you even deserve to?"
The office door banged open. Richard walked in, fresh from an SEC meeting. Hearing raised voices, he scowled.
"What's going on? Financing proposal in trouble?"
Sophia lunged to him like to a lifeboat. "Dad! Ken's blackmailing me. He could fix the proposal, but he's demanding five percent shares. He says he'll let the financing fail if I don't agree!"
Richard turned to Ken, face thunderous. "Ken, what's this? We're family. Why can't you just help your sister? Why bring up shares?"
Ken didn't flinch. He picked up the proposal and handed it over. Richard only cares about stock prices. Hit that nerve, he'll fold.
"Look at this. New York branch revenue inflated by three million. Chicago costs missing severance. If Morgan Stanley catches it, not only does financing collapse — SEC will suspect fraud. That's a 20% stock drop, minimum."
Richard skimmed it, his expression souring fast. He knew exactly how severe this was.
Ken pressed the advantage. "If I fix it, not only do we plug the holes, we raise profit forecast ten percent. Morgan Stanley will be thrilled. Five percent shares in exchange for stable financing — you tell me, worth it or not?"
Silence. Richard weighed daughter's pride against stock price. No contest.
Finally, he turned coldly to Sophia. "Do as Ken says. Transfer the shares. Let him attend the meeting."
"Dad!" Sophia's voice cracked, face crumpling.
"Enough!" Richard cut her off. "If this deal fails, you can forget being COO!"
Tears pooled in her eyes, but she swallowed them down. She knew Richard meant it.
Ken smirked, satisfaction warming his chest. Last life, you climbed on my back. This time, you crawl where I say.
He lifted the proposal. "I'll rework this by tonight. You'll have the final draft tomorrow."
Richard nodded, muttered a few warnings, and left for his meeting.
Silence settled, thick and bitter. Sophia glared at him, seething.
"You did this on purpose. You wanted me humiliated in front of Dad."
"So what if I did?" Ken packed up his notebook. Humiliation's just the beginning. Debt collection has only started.
His voice was flat, but sharp as a blade: "Never again. If you want my work, you pay — in money or in shares. No third option. Try stealing credit again, and I'll drop your cooked data straight at the SEC's door. I've still got backups of last year's numbers."
Sophia stiffened. She knew he wasn't bluffing. If the SEC sniffed fraud, she wouldn't just lose her job — prison was on the table.
Ken didn't spare her another glance. He walked out, sunlight from the glass wall pouring over him. Wall Street's rules never change: only strength speaks. Sophia was just the first. Next up, Olivia.
At the elevator, Linda hurried over, voice sugary now. "Mr. Ken, when you've got time, let me treat you to coffee. The company owes you so much."
Ken gave her a bland "Mm." Now you know how to smile at me? Last life, you couldn't even look me in the eye.
As the elevator descended, his reflection stared back from the glass. His lips curled into a cold smile. Step two of revenge — complete. Now let's see how many more will learn: the Howard blood son isn't to be messed with.