Chapter 164: Chapter 164

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– Persuasion Attempt: Elena

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☐☐☐

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Remaining Chances: 0/2

╰────────────────────╯

Same again. Two chances, three boxes. No room for error.

╭────────────────────╮

– Attempting Persuasion

==========================

“Nala’s vision, 20% growth next quarter.

She’s ready. Vote for the future.”

==========================

Base Chance: 45%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 75%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

“Nala’s vision,” I repeated, locking eyes. “Twenty percent growth. She’s ready. Vote for the future.”

Elena set the pen down, folded her arms. “Numbers don’t lie, Marlowe. And neither do résumés. She’s untested. No P&L ownership, no investor calls, no crisis under fire. She is… like I said, simply untested.”

“Untested and hungry,” I countered, stepping closer. “And she’s got the family keys to every vault—literal and figurative. She knows where the bodies are buried because she helped dig the holes. That’s leverage.”

She arched a brow. “Leverage cuts both ways. What if she digs up the wrong one?”

╭────────────────────╮

– Persuasion Attempt: Elena

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☑☐☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 1/2

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One box. Progress. But she wasn’t sold.

I shifted gears, voice dropping. “Look—Guy’s mess is a black hole. The street’s watching. One whiff of infighting, and the stock tanks ten percent by close. Nala’s the clean slate. No scandals, no baggage. Investors crave that narrative. Back her, and your portfolio doesn’t just survive, you come out looking like the oracle who saw the turnaround coming.”

Elena leaned back, chair creaking softly. She picked up a highlighter, rolled it between her fingers. “You’re not wrong. The market loves a redemption arc. But redemption needs a face—and hers is… young.”

“Young sells,” I said. “Young, female, sister of Guy, rising from the ashes with a five-year plan? That’s a story. CNBC eats it up. Your bonus is tied to stock performance, right? This isn’t charity—it’s math.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t call it Guy’s mess, Mr. Marlowe.”

“He stepped down without even talking to any of you.” I said. “That’s suspicious. And mess, no?”

“You… might be right.”

╭────────────────────╮

– Attempting Persuasion

==========================

“With Guy’s mess behind us,

Nala’s the clean slate investors crave.”

==========================

Base Chance: 50%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 80%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

“With Guy’s mess behind us,” I added, “Nala’s the clean slate investors crave.”

She nodded slowly. “You’ve made your point. I shall… think on this.”

╭────────────────────╮

– Persuasion Attempt: Elena

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☑☑☐

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Remaining Chances: 2/2-Success!

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Two down.

I gave a short nod. “Appreciate it. Good luck with the bleeding numbers.”

She was already back to her spreadsheets as I slipped out.

I thanked her and bolted—break room on two, where ops usually refueled.

The break room smelled like burnt espresso and citrus cleaner. Marcus Hale, COO—burly, suit buttons straining—stood at the pour-over station, grinding beans like he had a personal grudge.

I slid in beside him. “Marcus. Evan. Nala’s guy.”

He didn’t look up. “Make it quick.”

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– Persuasion Attempt: Marcus Hale

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☐☐☐

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Remaining Chances: 0/2

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Alright, a bit rude but nothing I couldn’t handle.

╭────────────────────╮

– Attempting Persuasion

==========================

“Nala’s continuity.

She knows every pipeline,

every vendor.

Vote for her, keep the ship steady.”

==========================

Base Chance: 40%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 70%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

“Nala’s continuity,” I said. “She knows every pipeline, every vendor. Vote for her, keep the ship steady.”

Marcus snorted. “You’re trying to persuade me into giving my vote for her, eh? Straight to the point, I like t hat.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a kid. No scars.”

“Scars are what sank Guy. Fresh eyes, clean hands.”

╭────────────────────╮

– Persuasion Attempt: Marcus Hale

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☑☐☐

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Remaining Chances: 1/2

╰────────────────────╯

Last shot.

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– Attempting Persuasion

==========================

“Planting Nala keeps the stock from tanking.

She’s the safe bet—your job,

your bonus, everything stays intact.”

==========================

Base Chance: 25%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 55%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

“Planting Nala keeps the stock from tanking,” I pushed. “Safe bet—your job, your bonus, everything intact.”

He set the grinder down, shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll think on it.”

No tick. The UI froze.

╭────────────────────╮

– Persuasion Attempt: Marcus Hale

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☑☒☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 0/2 – Failure

╰────────────────────╯

Two out of three. Not perfect, but maybe enough. I could try finding them, but I didn’t have much time.

I exhaled hard, the air tasting metallic from the sprint. My pulse hammered in my ears as I jabbed the elevator button for the executive floor. The ride up was agonizing—smooth jazz piping through hidden speakers, the digital floor counter crawling like it had all day. I checked my phone: 8:57 a.m. Three minutes until the vote.

I took the seat closest to the doors, knees bouncing. One by one, the board members trickled in.

First came Victor Hale, coffee mug still in hand. He gave me a curt nod—our earlier talk clearly fresh—and disappeared inside.

Elena followed, tablet tucked under her arm, heels clicking sharp. She paused, offered a tight smile. “Wish us luck.” Then she was gone.

Marcus Hale lumbered next, suit jacket straining. He didn’t acknowledge me—just pushed through the doors with a grunt.

Three more arrived in quick succession: Sarah Lin, Head of Marketing—sleek ponytail, red blazer; Dr. Raj Patel, Chief Scientist—rumpled lab coat over a hoodie; and Lydia Chen, General Counsel—severe bun, briefcase swinging like a weapon. Each vanished into the room without a word.

At 8:59, Nala appeared at the far end of the hall. She wore a navy sheath dress, hair in a low knot, tablet clutched like a shield. Her eyes found mine across the distance. I stood.

I met her halfway, cupped her cheek, kissed it soft. “I’ll call you. Don’t hang up—I want to hear everything inside. Keep your phone in your pocket, on silent, mic live.”

She nodded, breath shaky. “Okay.”

“Silver tongue, remember? You’ve got this.”

She squeezed my hand once, then slipped through the doors. They closed with a heavy thunk.

I retreated to my chair, dialed her number, and hit speaker—volume low. The line clicked open. Muffled voices, chairs scraping, then the low murmur of the room settling.

A deep voice—probably the chair, Harold Weiss—spoke first. “Order. Emergency session to appoint interim CEO following Guy Nolin’s resignation. Three candidates have put themselves forward. We’ll hear pitches in order. Five minutes each, then Q&A. Voting immediate after.”

My stomach tightened. Three candidates? Well, that was better than four, but still a fight.

Nala’s voice came next, calm but with an edge. “I’ll go last, if that’s acceptable.”

“Granted.”

First up was Marcus Hale. The line crackled as he cleared his throat, chair creaking under his bulk. “I’ve run ops for eight years,” he began, voice like gravel. “I know every vendor, every bottleneck, every damn pallet that moves through our warehouses. Continuity. No learning curve. Stock stays stable. We don’t gamble—we execute. Under me, nothing changes until we’re ready. Supply chain locked, labor contracts ironclad, margins protected. That’s not vision—that’s results.”

Questions came fast, sharp, like darts.

Victor Hale nodded. “What about the Singapore hub delay? Two weeks behind.”

“Customs hold,” Marcus grunted. “Already rerouted through Taiwan. On schedule by Friday.”

Elena exhaled. “Labor costs up twelve percent year-over-year.”

“Union renegotiation in Q3,” he fired back. “I’ve got the draft. Four percent cap, performance bonuses tied to uptime. Signed copies in your folders.”

“Any exposure from the whistleblower suit?” Chen asked.

“Settled out of court last night,” Marcus said. “NDAs airtight. Cost: two million. Budgeted under contingencies.”

Solid. Uninspired. Safe. The kind of pitch that kept boards sleeping at night, but didn’t light fires.

A pause. Chairs shifted. Then the second candidate—Dr. Raj Patel.

His voice was higher, excited, almost vibrating. “We pivot, now, to quantum-AI hybrids. I have prototypes. Three patents pending. This isn’t incremental—this is disruptive. We leapfrog OpenAI, xAI, everyone. My team’s running simulations at 97% efficiency. We deploy in eighteen months, dominate enterprise AI by 2027. This is the future—now.”

The board pounced.

“Cost?” Elena asked.

“R&D spike,” Raj admitted. “One hundred twenty million over two years.”

“Timeline?” Victor asked.

“Phase one rollout Q4 next year.”

“IP risk?” Lydia said.

“Patents are defensive,” Raj said, voice wavering. “But… competitors are close.”

Elena again, colder: “And your budget? You’ve never managed over fifty million.”

Silence.

Raj stumbled. “I—I have advisors. Consultants—”

“Thank you, Dr. Patel.” Harold Weiss cut in.

Then—silence. A long, heavy one.

Nala’s turn.

Her voice cut through like a blade—calm, clear, commanding. “Thank you. I’m not here to manage the present—I’m here to build the future. Slide one.”

A soft beep, the projector hummed to life.

“TechForge’s core IP is stagnating,” she began, no hesitation. “Competitors are six months, six, from cloning our edge-AI. We’re bleeding relevance. My plan? Project Phoenix. Let me walk you through it, step by step.”

She didn’t wait. She owned the room.

“First: we clean house. Three legacy products—Enterprise Vault, Legacy Sync, and CloudBridge—are devouring forty percent of R&D for only eight percent revenue. They’re dead weight. We sunset them. That frees one hundred eighty million dollars—immediately.”

Victor Hale’s voice cut in, skeptical. “That’s half our enterprise clients.”

“Exactly,” Nala replied, unflinching. “And every single one is locked into sunsetting contracts. We don’t lose them—we migrate them. To Phoenix Core, our new unified platform. Upsell thirty percent on day one. Churn drops sixty. I have the migration roadmap right here—signed off by engineering leads last night. Page three in your packets. Look at it.”

A rustle of papers. I heard pages flipping.

“Second,” Nala continued, voice rising with momentum, “talent. We don’t beg—we poach. I’ve secured verbal commitments from two principal researchers at KurtelMind and mAI—Dr. Lema Ross and Dr. Amir Shakar. Their join letters are in your folders. Contingent on my leadership. They told me directly: ’We want vision, not bureaucracy.’ I gave them that. They’re on standby for calls if anyone wants to verify—right now.”

Raj Patel’s voice cracked, tight with panic. “You can’t promise that. That’s—that’s not how it works.”

“I already did,” Nala said, ice-cool. “And they said yes. Because I showed them the roadmap. The budget. The freedom. They’re tired of red tape. I’m offering them a rocket ship.”

Silence. Then Elena, softer: “Go on.”

“Third: capital,” Nala said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “We don’t beg investors—we create value. We spin out our quantum division into a Series A startup. I have term sheets, signed, from Pequoia and Anderson. Four hundred million pre-money valuation. TechForge retains fifty-one percent. That’s a cash infusion with zero dilution. We fund Phoenix without touching reserves. Stock jumps twenty-five percent on announcement alone. Financial models—page seven. Run the numbers.”

Elena again, sharper now: “That’s… aggressive.”

“It’s necessary,” Nala fired back. “We announce the spin-out the same week as the brand refresh. We control the narrative: From scandal to supremacy.”

Lydia Chen, legal and lethal: “Legal risks? Guy’s resignation came out of nowhere. No explanation, no board consultation. What are we walking into?”

Nala didn’t flinch. “Guy’s departure was sudden, yes. But it was his choice. The resignation letter, page nine, includes full non-disclosure, non-disparagement, no-admit liability. I drafted it myself. He signed at 6:04 a.m. Notarized. Ironclad. Whatever prompted his exit, it stays buried. We move forward—clean.”

A low whistle, Victor, definitely.

“Any further questions?” Harold asked.

Dead silence.

“Then, voting. Paper ballots. Mark and pass forward.”

The rustle of pens was deafening. My heart slammed against my ribs. I leaned forward, ear pressed to the phone.

Harold counted aloud, voice steady.

“Na—”

The line cut off, and I realised my phone’s battery was dead. Shit, shit, shit. Just when I was about to hear the best part!

After a few seconds, Nala emerged from the room, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, tablet still clutched like a trophy.

I was already moving.

“Did you?” I asked.

“YES!” She said, hugging me. “Yes, Evan. Yes!”

“Woo!” I screamed. “That’s my gir—I mean good job!”

╭─────────────╮

Quest Completed

Title: Just Making Sure

Reward: 50c

╰─────────────╯

I wasn’t able to see their faces, but two people left the meeting room and turned the corner, their steps heavy. They had to be the other candidates. Glad Nala was able to beat them. I was… actually kinda proud of her. Some might say I was happier than her.

╭────────────────────╮

– SHOP

==========================

• Aphrodisiac Drink (10c)

• Silk Lingerie Set (25c)

• Sensual Massage Oil (15c)

• Mystery Pleasure Toy (30c)

• Flirt Potion (20c)

• Hypnotic Perfume (40c)

• Time Stop (90c)

• 500 Dollars (50c)

• 1 Ability Point (150c)

==========================

– Credits: 55c

– Select item to purchase.

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❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

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