The Internal Issues

The boardroom was tense. Several individuals sat around the long table with faces drawn with unease.

Yes, a meeting at this hour was unusual, even absurd. But this wasn't just a meeting—it was an emergency. And when their leader called for an urgent assembly, no one dared to question it.

Jiang Yanxu sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the chair. His usual composed expression showed cracks of strain. His sharp eyes were fixed on the big screen in front of him, where lines of code scrolled endlessly—complex, encrypted, and incomprehensible.

The head of the IT department, a man with dark circles under his eyes, navigated through the data swiftly.

His voice was tight with urgency as he explained, "Look at this, gentlement." He pointed at a specific string of code. "This is a vulnerability—a bug. A week ago, one of my team reported unusual activity. The system detected a large-scale hacking attempt targeting our central server. Their goal was the company's transaction data. And—" He swallowed. "Some of it has already been leaked. I've managed to contain the breach, but .…"

Silence blanketed the room like a thick fog.

Jiang Yanxu's jaw tightened, his mind racing. Sweat beaded at his temple, but he barely noticed. This wasn't just a random cyberattack, but it was calculated and deliberate, and explaining the discrepancies he had noticed in the company's financial records.

A week ago, investors had started questioning the numbers he provided. The inconsistencies were so subtle he had initially attributed them to the volatile global economy.

It made sense. Everyone had believed his explanation.

But now, staring at the proof before him, realization hit him like a freight train. Someone was playing with him.

Jiang Yanxu leaned back, sighing sharply.

The irony wasn't lost on him. In his past life, he had ignored these warnings, dismissed concerns—until it was too late—and he had lost everything. The company, his status, his pride. And now, history threatened to repeat itself.

His voice sliced through the heavy silence. "Hm, interesting."

Everyone directly turned toward Jiang Yanxu.

"We have one of the most secure systems in the industry," Jiang Yanxu said, eyes were still on the screen. "Yet they knew exactly when to strike. Means .…" He let the words linger.

The implication was clear.

Someone inside the company had given them access.

A murmur rippled through the room. Faces paled. Suspicion hung thick in the air.

"That means … what?" someone whispered.

Jiang Yanxu didn't need to finish the sentence. They all understood.

He steepled his fingers. Without solid proof, accusations were meaningless. But this wasn't something he could ignore.

"Tomorrow, we hold a mandatory meeting for all department heads." His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable weight of authority. Then, turning to the IT head, he placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "I trust you and your team will handle this. I expect the system secured by morning. I don't want to hear about another breach. Understood?"

The IT head stiffened. He knew a warning when he heard one. His job—his entire career—hung in the balance. He nodded. "Y-Yes, sir."

Jiang Yanxu's lips curled slightly. "Good work anyway." Then, addressing the rest of the room, he commanded, "Dismissed."

One by one, they filed out.

As the door clicked shut behind, silence enveloped the room once more.

Jiang Yanxu finally allowed himself to slump into the chair, the weight of the situation pressing against his shoulders like a crushing vice.

The image of those cold, glaring numbers from earlier flashed in his mind, followed by the uneasy glances exchanged between his employees. It was happening again. That same suffocating dread.

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration gnawing at him. His fingers trembled slightly—an imperceptible sign of the turmoil he kept hidden beneath layers of composure.

No matter how strong he stood before others, moments like this stripped him bare.

He had fought tooth and nail to reach this point, clawing his way back from ruin, from humiliation. And yet, despite all his efforts, the past loomed over him like a specter, whispering reminders of his failures.

He hated it—hated this feeling of helplessness—of being outmaneuvered, of losing control.

His gaze drifted to the towering glass windows overlooking the city skyline where the lights painted the dark sky in hues of gold and red—felt so alive—unlike the emptiness that sat heavy in his chest. He had built this empire, revived it from the ashes, yet now, cracks were beginning to show.

How long until it all crumbled again?

With a sharp exhale, he closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips against his temple.

Rebirth at his downfall.

The universe really knew how to punish him.