Reborn To Ruin My Billionaire Ex

Chapter Seven: The First Audit

The executive boardroom on the 85th floor of Raja Global Headquarters was a battlefield masquerading as a luxury suite. A massive table carved from a single piece of white Calacatta marble stretched across the room, surrounded by twelve leather executive chairs. The air was frigid, cooled by an industrial HVAC system that seemed designed to keep the board members perpetually on edge.

At the head of the table sat Cynthia Raja.

She was a woman of fifty who looked thirty-five, her face frozen in a mask of pristine, aristocratic perfection via expensive Swiss serums and sheer malice. She wore a tailored white tweed Chanel suit, her manicured fingers adorned with massive diamonds, her gaze fixed coldly on the glass doors at the end of the room.

Beside her sat Director Harrison, the head of North Atlantic Logistics, his forehead slick with a thin layer of nervous sweat despite the room's temperature.

"The stock stabilized at the opening bell," Harrison whispered, his voice trembling. "But the Cross Holdings IPO is dead in the water, Cynthia. Jason Cross’s servers are completely locked. The offshore fund we set up to buy his proprietary code is frozen by an SEC injunction. What do we do?"

"Quiet, you fool," Cynthia hissed, her voice a sharp, elegant blade. "Jason Cross was a tool. If he was stupid enough to let a girl strip him of his patents, he deserves to rot. Our focus is the Rotterdam port. As long as our ghost protocol continues to mirror the shipping manifests, we can bleed Vijay’s margins by thirty percent before the quarterly report. The board will have no choice but to vote for his removal."

The heavy glass doors of the boardroom slid open with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.

Vera Jenson stepped into the room.

She wore a sharp, charcoal-gray double-breasted blazer with structured shoulders, her dark hair slicked back into a flawless, high ponytail. In her hand, she held a single, slim silver laptop. Behind her, the door didn't close—it was held open by Vijay, who walked in with the slow, terrifying weight of a thundercloud, taking his seat at the opposite end of the table without saying a single word. He simply crossed his legs, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, his dark eyes locked onto his stepmother.

Vera didn't take a seat. She walked directly to the center of the marble table, opened her laptop, and patched it into the massive, 100-inch digital display on the wall.

"Good morning, members of the board," Vera said, her clear, crystalline voice cutting through the tension like a diamond through glass. "My name is Vera Jenson-Raja, and as the newly appointed Chief Auditor of Raja Global, my first official act was a full-scale forensic sweep of the North Atlantic logistics ledgers."

Cynthia’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits. She forced a tight, patronizing smile onto her lips. "Vera, darling. We are all deeply amused by Vijay’s sudden... matrimonial whimsy. But this is a corporate governance meeting for a multi-billion-dollar maritime conglomerate. We don't have time to review basic accounting errors from a girl who spent her career in a start-up sandbox."

A few mid-level directors offered weak, nervous chuckles, flicking their eyes toward Vijay to see his reaction. Vijay remained completely motionless, an iron statue radiating a suffocating, lethal quiet.

"I agree, Mrs. Raja. We don't have time for games," Vera said smoothly, her fingers flying across her keyboard with a blinding, mechanical speed.

Flash.

The massive display behind her instantly turned a bright, aggressive amber. A vast, complex data matrix began cascading down the screen, thousands of lines of cryptographic code resolving into a single, comprehensive financial flow chart.

"This is the architecture of the Rotterdam port leak," Vera announced, her voice dropping into a level, chillingly calm register. "For fourteen months, a ghost protocol hidden inside the container-tracking software has been mirroring Raja Global's priority manifests to an offshore shell entity registered in the Cayman Islands under the name Aegis Holdings."

Director Harrison's pen snapped in his hand, the blue ink staining his palm.

"The algorithm used to hide these transactions was sophisticated," Vera continued, stepping toward Cynthia’s side of the table, her obsidian eyes fixed entirely on the older woman's freezing expression. "But it had a fatal flaw. It assumed the auditor wouldn't know the exact programming language it was written in. I tracked the administrative access tokens used to install the ghost protocol. They didn't come from an outside hacker."

She tapped her tablet once more.

A single corporate profile expanded on the screen, flashing with a bright red warning boundary.

ACCESS TOKEN VALIDATION:

USER: LOGISTICS_DIR_HARRISON

CROSS-REFERENCE FUNDING: AEGIS HOLDINGS (BENEFICIARY: CYNTHIA RAJA)

The boardroom went entirely airless. Director Harrison staggered back in his leather chair, his face turning the color of chalk. "This... this is a fabrication! It’s data manipulation! Vijay, your new wife is attempting to frame the senior executive staff to secure her own power!"

Vijay slowly lowered his hands from his chin. He didn't look at Harrison. He looked directly at Cynthia, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a cold shiver down the spine of everyone in the room.

"Security," Vijay murmured.

Instantly, four massive, charcoal-suited Raja Global guards stepped into the room, their earpieces gleaming.

"Director Harrison is stripped of his clearance, his shares are frozen under the corporate treason clause, and he will be escorted to the federal building for SEC deposition," Vijay commanded, his voice completely unbothered, as if he were ordering a coffee. "If he attempts to delete a single file from his personal device, break his fingers."

"Cynthia! Save me! You promised—" Harrison screamed as the guards violently hauled him out of his chair, his leather loafers dragging against the polished floorboards until the glass doors shut behind him.

Vera closed her laptop with a soft, decisive snap. She stood at the center of the room, looking down at Cynthia Raja, who was now trembling with a suppressed, toxic fury, her manicured nails digging so hard into her tweed skirt that the fabric groaned.

"The North Atlantic leak is plugged, Mrs. Raja," Vera said, her lips curving into a beautiful, entirely merciless smile. "I’ll be auditing the Mediterranean accounts after lunch. I suggest your remaining directors clean their ledgers before I arrive."