"Hand Over Black Veil" 2

The projector flickered to life again, the room dimming as a deafening silence settled over the boardroom. The twelve board members leaned forward, their faces predatory, their eyes glinting with something between pity and disdain. Justine Black, the 18-year-old heir to the Black Veil Agency, sat at the head of the table, his face calm, but his stomach churned like a storm.

It hasn't even been a day but he was already wrapped in the chaos of this... Board members stirring things from the background to have him step down and take over the agency! He looked at each of them, the silver-haired woman one of who'd been spearheading this.

The next media headline appeared on the screen in bold, damning letters, although he had seen this in the morning, it didn't change anything or the damage it was doing to his parent's legacy:

"Playboy Heir Takes Over Black Veil: Clients and Employees Flee a Sinking Ship."

Justine's expression didn't flinch, though his grip on the chair tightened beneath the table.

The silver-haired woman who led the onslaught spoke again, her voice syrupy with fake politeness. "These articles came out just this morning, Mr. Black. Would you care to hear more of the highlights?"

Before he could respond, she clicked her remote, and the room was filled with the clipped voice of a newscaster.

"Dubbed the 'Party Prince' of the elite, Justine Black is no stranger to scandal. His parents, the late and celebrated founders of the Black Veil Agency, left their empire to their only son—a boy more famous for his wild nights than any business acumen. Just weeks ago, he was photographed stumbling out of a Miami club with two escorts and a bag of what appeared to be cocaine. No charges were filed, but sources claim his parents quietly paid off the authorities."

The image switched to the now-infamous photo: Justine, glassy-eyed, shirt untucked, with two women clinging to his arms and something white smeared across his face. The timestamp was damning, just a five months before the tragic accident that left him in charge.

Someone coughed, the sound loud in the oppressive silence.

Another headline followed.

"Black Veil's Boy Boss: Business as Usual or a Billion-Dollar Meltdown Waiting to Happen?"

The article ripped into him, calling him a "cautionary tale for nepotism" and a "walking PR disaster." It detailed his expulsions from two elite boarding schools, a DUI charge at 16 that had mysteriously disappeared from public record, and a leaked video of him insulting a former Black Veil client at a private event.

Before the words could settle, another board member jumped in, their voice sharp. "And it's not just the media, Mr. Black. The clients are speaking, too."

With a click, audio messages began playing.

"I signed with Black Veil because of its prestige. But how can I trust an 18-year-old who's never held a job to manage my contract?"

Another voice chimed in, dripping with disgust. "He's just a spoiled brat. I don't care what his last name is—my reputation can't be tied to this circus."

The next one hit harder, the voice raw with emotion. "I was loyal to the Black Veil because of his parents. But this kid? He's nothing like them. He doesn't know the first thing about respect or hard work. I'm done."

Justine sat stone-faced as the room filled with the sound of scorn, each word striking like a blow. And then came the employee messages—leaked recordings that twisted the knife further.

"I can't believe I'm putting my career in the hands of some rich kid who's probably never worked a day in his life."

"He doesn't get it. He doesn't get us. He's gonna run this place into the ground, and we'll be the ones paying the price."

The next message was even worse. "You know what they're calling him online? The 'Golden Joke.' They're laughing at us. Our clients are dropping because they don't want their names tied to this mess."

The woman leading the meeting clicked again, and the screen now displayed a chart of losses—clients, revenue, and top-tier employees. "In two hours, Mr. Black, we've lost 20% of our clientele. Even the ones who haven't left yet are renegotiating their contracts. And our competitors? Luxe Models just signed Levi. Do you know what that means?"

He knew. Levi wasn't just a model. He was the face of Black Veil's campaign, a walking symbol of their exclusivity and prestige. His defection was a warning shot.

But it wasn't over. The next slide displayed a bombshell.

Debt. Red numbers flashed across the screen, highlighting the loans his parents arguably had taken out to expand.

"If we don't pay this off in three months, creditors will come for everything," a board member said gravely. "The properties, the talent, the reputation—gone. And based on your current trajectory, Mr. Black, I don't see how you're going to fix this."

A voice from the back, more aggressive than the rest, broke in. "Let's not sugarcoat it. The kid's a liability. He's dragging this agency into the dirt with him. We can't afford to babysit him while he learns what it takes to run a business."

Then came the suggestion.

"Step down, Mr. Black," said the man who had spoken last, his tone firm. "We'll find someone more experienced to take over. Someone who can actually save what's left of this company."

Eight hands shot up in agreement.

The vote was clear.

But Justine didn't move. Didn't flinch.

He sat back, his eyes scanning the faces around the table. The weight of their judgment pressed down on him, but he didn't show it. Instead, he let a small, almost imperceptible smirk creep onto his face.

"Interesting," he finally said, his voice low and calm, but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass. The room quieted, the board members waiting for him to crack. But he didn't.

He was down, sure. The room was suffocating him, the odds stacked so high against him it felt impossible.

But he wasn't done.

Not by a long shot.

[Ding! Black Veil System Activated]

The voice slithered into his mind, smooth and unnerving, like a late-night FM host mixed with a devil whisper.

[Welcome to the Veil System, Veiler, Justin Black. The shadows of manipulation, deceit, control, greedy and lust are your playground now.]