Leo's ultimatum was met with a profound, unnerving silence. For three days, the Shadow Board did not respond. There were no threats, no negotiations. To the rest of the company, it was business as usual. But Leo, with his senses attuned to the subtle flows of corporate power, knew this was the calm before a storm. They were not ignoring him. They were preparing a battlefield.
The summons came on a Thursday morning. A public press conference had been called to announce the finalization of a massive, complex merger with a rival tech firm. It was a high-stakes, high-visibility event. The announcement email noted that the presentation of the strategic overview would be handled by the new General Manager, Leo Zhang.
It was a test. A public execution if he failed.
He arrived at the corporate auditorium thirty minutes early. The room was already buzzing, filled with journalists, investors, and analysts. He saw them in the front row, scattered amongst the crowd but united by their silent, predatory focus: Harrison, Sterling, and the other members of the Shadow Board. They were here to watch him perform on the tightrope they had erected.
Just as he was about to take the stage, Arthur Harrison approached him, his face a cold, impassive mask.
"A bold move, Mr. Zhang," the old man said, his voice a low whisper that cut through the noise. "Blackmail. A tactic for lesser men. Power is not taken with a threat. It is demonstrated."
"Then consider this a demonstration," Leo replied, his Corporate Throne aura meeting the GM's own oppressive presence.
"Today, you are the face of this company," Harrison continued, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Every word you say will affect our stock price, our reputation. The world is watching. Do try not to disappoint them."
It was a veiled threat of exquisite cruelty. They had placed him on a public stage where a single misstep would result in his immediate, public humiliation. His blackmail material would be worthless if it came from a disgraced, fired executive.
Leo walked onto the stage, the bright lights washing over him. He began his presentation, his voice calm and steady, outlining the immense strategic value of the merger. He was flawless.
Then, the Q&A began. The third journalist to stand was a woman he recognized from his System's data as a notorious attack dog, known for her brutal, well-researched questions.
"Mr. Zhang," she began, her voice sharp. "Your presentation paints a rosy picture. But my sources indicate a 'poison pill' clause in the acquisition target's founding charter—a Section 27B that grants their original investors a crippling percentage of all future IP in the event of a hostile takeover. Your own company's filings classify this merger as 'non-consensual.' Isn't it true that you've just paid ten billion dollars for a company whose best ideas you'll never truly own?"
The room went dead silent. It was a killer question. A detail so obscure, so deeply buried in legalese, that he hadn't been briefed on it. A flicker of triumph flashed in Harrison's eyes. This was their trap.
Leo's mind raced. A denial would be a lie she could disprove. An affirmation would crater the company's stock. A non-answer would be an admission of incompetence. He gave a standard, evasive corporate response. It was a fatal mistake.
[Catastrophic Failure Detected. Stock Price Simulation: -18%. Reputation: Critical Damage.]
This was it. The public execution.
But as the first panicked whispers began to ripple through the auditorium, Leo's world froze. He looked at the heavy, titanium watch on his wrist. The Chairman's Chronometer.
He gave the silent, mental command.
The world dissolved into a blinding, silent vortex of light and sound. The panicked faces, the journalist's smug expression, Harrison's triumphant gaze—it all smeared into a blur, then snapped back into perfect, crystalline focus with a dizzying lurch.
He was standing at the podium. The journalist was just rising from her seat, her mouth beginning to form the first words of her question. The clock on the wall read five minutes earlier. He knew everything that was about to happen.
[Timeline Rewound. Knowledge Retained.]
"Ah, Ms. Albright from the Financial Chronicle," Leo said, his voice calm and pre-emptive, cutting her off before she could even begin. "I believe you were about to ask about the Section 27B 'poison pill' clause."
A collective gasp went through the room. Ms. Albright froze, her mouth agape, her attack line stolen from her before she could deploy it.
Leo smiled, a cold, confident expression that was more terrifying than any threat. "An excellent and insightful question. What others might see as a 'poison pill,' we identified early on as a strategic asset. That clause only applies to a hostile takeover."
He clicked his remote, and a new, unscripted slide appeared on the screen behind him—one he had just mentally designed. "Which is why, three weeks ago, we quietly acquired a majority stake in the three venture capital firms that represent those original investors. They are now our partners. Section 27B is not a threat; it is an insurance policy that guarantees our new partners remain aligned with our long-term strategic goals. We didn't just buy a company. We bought the entire ecosystem."
It was a lie. A brilliant, flawless, and utterly beautiful lie, created in the five-minute space he had gifted himself.
The auditorium was stunned into silence, then erupted into a wave of impressed murmurs. The journalist sat down, her face a mask of disbelief and professional respect. In the front row, Arthur Harrison's face was ashen. Sterling looked like he had seen a ghost.
Leo had not just dodged the bullet. He had caught it in mid-air, melted it down, and forged it into a crown. He had demonstrated a level of foresight that was not humanly possible.
The next day, a company-wide memo was released. Arthur Harrison was "retiring" from his role as GM to take a senior advisory position. The vacant seat for Vice President of the Strategic Division was officially filled by Leo Zhang.
His gamble had paid off. The Shadow Board had not just surrendered. They had been dismantled and absorbed, their power now his to command.