I'll Make Them All Pay; A General's Revenge

Chapter 9.. lost everything

The Walker Company boardroom was heavily air-conditioned.

That was what they always said about it. Heavy AC. Perfectly regulated. Cold enough to make anyone comfortable.

Yet sweat clung to my skin.

It gathered at my temples, dampened my collar, slid slowly down my spine. My legs trembled beneath me, a faint, uncontrollable shake I couldn’t stop. I was afraid they might give way. Afraid I might collapse right there, in front of everyone.

I had been voted out of my company.

My company.

The one I had spent years building, brick by brick, deal by deal.

No.

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream. Some cruel hallucination my mind would snap out of any second now.

“Please tell me I’m just dreaming,” I muttered. My voice barely sounded like mine.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

George.

One of the board members. A friend. Or at least, someone I had once believed was.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said quietly. “But this is real. I don’t know what you did, or why the General no longer has confidence in you, but it’s done. It’s all done. The vote’s over.”

He hesitated, his hand still hovering there like he wanted to hold on, like he wanted to say something that might soften the blow. Whatever it was, he didn’t say it.

“If you want my advice,” he added instead, “maybe you should apologize to General V. That’s the only thing I can tell you. Sorry.”

Then he walked away.

.....

I don’t remember leaving the boardroom.

One moment I was standing there, staring at the polished table that no longer belonged to me, and the next I was in the hallway. The carpet felt too soft under my shoes. The lights were too bright. Everything looked sharp and unreal, like I was watching myself from a distance.

My phone vibrated.

Once. Twice. Again.

I ignored it at first. I couldn’t take anything else. I was already holding myself together with threads. But the buzzing wouldn’t stop.

When I finally looked, the screen was crowded with notifications.

Bank alerts.

Internal memos.

Emails stamped urgent.

I opened the first one.

ACCOUNT ACCESS RESTRICTED.

I frowned and refreshed the screen, irritation flickering through the fog. A glitch, I told myself. It had to be.

Another alert slid into place almost immediately.

SIGNATORY PRIVILEGES REVOKED.

Something tightened hard in my chest.

“No,” I whispered. “No. No, no, no.”

I tried logging into the Walker Group system. The password failed. I typed it again, slower, more carefully, my fingers shaking now.

ACCESS DENIED.

A short, broken laugh escaped me. It sounded wrong. Empty. Like it didn’t come from me at all.

I called my assistant, straight to voicemail. I tried legal next — busy. Finance after that. The line rang, then clicked, and when someone finally answered, it wasn’t my usual contact.

“Walker Group, finance department.”

“This is Eric Walker,” I said, too fast. “I need to speak to someone right now.”

Silence.

Not technical silence. Human silence. The kind that carries weight.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said finally. “Mr. Walker, we’ve been instructed to route all inquiries through interim leadership.”

Interim.

The word hit harder than I expected.

“I founded that company,” I snapped. “I built it.”

Another pause. Longer. Heavier.

“I understand, sir. But effective today, you no longer have authority within Walker Group.”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my reflection faint in the black screen. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the man staring back.

I tried one last thing.

The shareholder registry.

My name was still there.

But next to it, neat and merciless, were words I had never seen before.

NON-EXECUTIVE. NO VOTING RIGHTS.

My legs finally gave out.

I sank onto a bench in the corridor, my head dropping into my hands. The air felt thick, like it didn’t want to enter my lungs. People walked past me, some slowing, some pretending not to notice. No one said anything.

The man who had just been erased.

General V.

The name rose in my mind again, unwanted.

Confidence.

Trust.

Influence.

That was the story they were telling. That the General had lost confidence in me.

But I knew better.

This wasn’t business. This was personal.

Videl. My ex-wife.

To be honest, the moment I had realized who General V truly was, my body had almost shut down. The shock had slammed into me so hard I’d nearly collapsed where I stood.

The woman I had dismissed.

The woman I had believed was nothing without me.

The woman I had never imagined could tear my world apart like this.

A hollow sound tore out of my chest, half laugh, half something that hurt too much to name.

Three years. For three years, she had been my pillar, and I hadn’t even known it.

And in a single day, she had taken everything back.

I sat there, stripped of title, stripped of power, stripped of the one thing that had ever made me feel untouchable.

My phone started ringing again.

The sound made my chest tighten. I stared at the screen without picking it up. I didn’t need to see the name. Any call now would only confirm what I was already afraid of.

I let it ring.

When the sound finally stopped, the silence felt heavier than the noise ever had.

Eventually, I stood. My legs protested, weak and uncertain, but they held. I walked past the same people who no longer met my eyes, out into the city noise, into daylight that felt too normal for what had just happened.

I got into my car and shut the door.

Only then did my hands start shaking again.

.......

When I got home, the house felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still.

Gretta and my sister were in the living room. The moment they saw me, they stood.

“Eric,” Gretta said, her voice tight. “It’s not true, is it? Don’t tell me what’s on the news is true. You can’t possibly have been voted out as CEO. That’s impossible.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t trust my voice. I walked past them instead, my steps heavy, my gaze fixed ahead like if I stopped moving, everything would collapse.

“Eric,” my sister said softly.

I kept going.

Halfway up the stairs, I saw Bianca.

She stood there like she’d been waiting, her hands clasped, her face pale, worry written all over her.

“Eric,” she said gently. “Please, talk to me.”

Something twisted in my chest. Not pain. Not sadness.

I pushed past her.

She stumbled back a step. “Eric!”

I didn’t look back.

I went into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me.