Chapter 101: The Loser Has No Choice

"Everyone, today's main agenda is... Mal's misconduct during his time at the group, and the corresponding disciplinary actions."

He glanced at Matthew. Matthew stood up and projected a document onto the large screen in the conference room.

The document was long, but the key points were just a few.

First, during his tenure, Mal had abused his position to misappropriate company funds for offshore gambling, totaling over twenty million dollars.

Second, Mal had been using drugs long-term and had organized illegal parties involving drugs at company premises.

Third, Mal was suspected to be connected to several deaths of young women, and their families had already filed police reports.

After Matthew finished reading the last item, the conference room fell silent as a tomb.

Everyone's eyes turned to Yosef.

Yosef kept his head down, staring at the glass of water in front of him. The glass was full and clean, reflecting the shadows of the ceiling lights.

"Yosef,"

James's voice was soft, but everyone heard it clearly,

"Do you have anything to say?"

Yosef raised his head, looked at James, then at the others present.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only managed one sentence.

"Mal will leave Novaria. I'll send him to Thalassia—he has a farm there. From now on, he won't set foot in Apex Global Enterprises, won't be involved in any company affairs."

He paused.

"All his assets, except for that farm, will belong to the company. The Jace family will provide compensation to those girls' families. We'll handle the cleanup."

James looked at him, silent for five seconds.

"Okay."

James said,

"Board vote."

Sixteen people, fifteen raised their hands.

Yosef didn't raise his hand, but he didn't object either.

Mal, once one of Apex Global Enterprises' most promising heirs, was exiled to Thalassia at the age of thirty-eight.

The day he left, it rained heavily in Novaria.

But not as heavily as Mal's tears.

He stood in the airport departure hall, wearing a wrinkled suit, his hair wet from the rain and plastered to his forehead.

No one came to see him off—just a driver helping him with a suitcase.

He turned back to look at the city one last time.

Skyscrapers, smokestacks, gray skies. He was born here, grew up here, learned how to smile, how to say nice things, how to stab people in the back.

He thought this city would be his one day.

Now, he didn't even have the right to stay.

The driver placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt, walked back, and handed him a ticket.

"Mal, time to board."

He had never been to Thalassia.

All he knew was that there were lions there, diamonds, and a rundown farm his father had bought.

He would go to that farm to plant crops, raise cattle, stare at the sky, and slowly grow old.

Mal clutched the ticket in his palm, squeezing it so hard the paper nearly crumpled.

He turned and walked toward the gate.

He didn't look back, but he made a silent vow:

James, as long as I'm alive, I will come back!

Three days after Mal left, Ondine received an email from James.

The email was short and blunt:

Ondine, that bastard Mal has left Novaria.

I've known about your collaboration with him from the start—you were just a pawn he used against me.

I admire you. You're truly talented.

If you're willing, I can give you a chance...

Of course, if you're not willing, I'll take back my admiration.

After all, no one who's betrayed someone deserves forgiveness.

You have a choice now: you'll lose twenty years of freedom, working for me continuously.

And if, during that time, you hurt the company's interests for a man again, I'll make you regret being born.

Give me your answer within three hours.

James

Ondine sat at the hotel desk and read the email a dozen times.

Her finger hovered over the mouse for a long time before she opened the reply box.

She typed something, then deleted it.

Typed again, deleted again.

She stood up, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain.

She had thought this was Satan's death notice, but it turned out to be a pledge of loyalty.

She had even considered whether, if Mal ran away, her only way out was to jump from this window.

Because Apex Global Enterprises had never been kind.

But thankfully.

James was kind.

Ondine closed her eyes, then walked back to the desk and quickly typed in the reply box: "I'm willing."

She moved the mouse to the send button, paused for a second, then clicked.

Email sent successfully.

She leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath.

When James received Ondine's reply, he was sitting in his office at Novaria headquarters.

The sky outside wasn't fully light yet—gray-blue light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading a thin layer across the floor.

He set his phone on the desk and picked up his coffee cup for a sip.

The coffee was cold. He didn't mind.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Bianca pushed the door open. She wore a white lab coat, her hair tied in a low ponytail, no makeup, but she looked energetic. She held a printed course schedule and a student ID.

"James, Cleo's and my enrollment is all done."

She placed the schedule and ID on the desk,

"Classes start tomorrow."

James picked up the schedule and glanced at it. The courses were packed—Monday through Friday, at least three classes each day.

Bianca had chosen seven courses, four of them graduate-level.

"Seven courses?"

James looked up at her,

"You sure you can handle it?"

Bianca adjusted her glasses.

"Lab work and classes don't conflict. I can do experiments at night."

James looked at her for several seconds, then nodded.

Bianca never needed anyone to worry about her—she took care of herself better than anyone.

The door opened again.

This time it was Cleo.

She wore a cream-colored knit sweater and jeans, her hair loose over her shoulders.

She had light makeup on, a pale pink lipstick, and looked like a college student who'd just stepped out of a magazine.

"James! Look at my student ID!"

She ran up to James, holding the ID right in front of his face,

"Praise me—don't I look great?"

James took the ID and glanced at it...

In the photo, Cleo was smiling with all eight teeth showing, her eyes curved into crescents. Sunlight hit her face from the side, softening her features—like holy light on an angel.