Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Siege
The university boardroom was a temple of mahogany and arrogance.
Twelve members sat around the table, their faces masks of intellectual superiority.
I didn't care about their credentials.
I cared about the files on my drive.
The security guard at the door tried to stop me, but I used a simple joint lock, and he was on the ground before he realized he was moving.
I burst into the room.
The Dean of Students, a man named Sterling, stood up.
"Mr. Mercer, this is a private meeting. You have no authority—"
"I have the authority of a father whose daughter you tried to kill," I said, slamming the hard drive onto the table.
The room went silent.
"What is this?" the board president asked, her voice trembling.
"This is Project Silver Lining," I said. "This is the footage of the attack. And this is the financial trail leading directly to your endowment."
Sterling’s face turned gray.
"You don't understand. It’s for the future of the school."
"It’s for the future of your bank accounts," I corrected.
I walked to the head of the table.
"My daughter is in a hospital bed, fighting to speak. You thought she was alone. You thought she was just a student who could be discarded."
I leaned in, my presence dominating the room.
"But she’s not alone."
I pressed a button on the drive.
The boardroom wall was a digital display.
The footage of the attack—the real, unedited, brutal footage—began to play.
The board members gasped.
Some turned away, their faces pale.
"I have already sent this to the FBI," I lied, my voice steady. "They have an hour to respond. If they don't, this goes to every news outlet in the country."
Sterling lunged for the drive, but I caught his wrist.
I twisted it, just enough to make him cry out.
"Don't," I warned.
"You’re destroying this institution!" he screamed.
"You destroyed it the moment you let a child be beaten for your research," I said.
The board members were scrambling, whispering, their unity fracturing under the weight of the evidence.
"We have to do something," one member said.
"We need a lawyer," another said.
"You need a priest," I retorted.
I turned to Sterling.
"Who ordered it?"
"I don't know!" he lied.
I pulled out the photograph of the patch I had found.
"It was Vanguard Dynamics. And they report to you, Sterling."
He slumped into his chair, his arrogance shattered.
"It was the Dean of Research. He wanted the results."
I pulled out my phone and recorded the confession.
"Keep talking," I commanded.
He spoke, his voice a drone of confession, a laundry list of sins.
I had them.
All of them.
But as I left the room, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
A black car was waiting outside the building.
The game was escalating.
May you like
They were no longer playing defense.
They were coming for me.
