Chapter 49 Cleansing Eclipse
[Nyx]
Her tone was respectful, but the words carried a threat.
I turned to look at her, eyes cold. "Eclipse is the company my mother founded, not an appendage of the Hyde family. If anyone thinks politics are more important than company interests, you can leave now."
Linda's face went pale.
The conference room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum.
Then James Torres—the Production Director—suddenly spoke. "Miss Verdant is right. We're a pharmaceutical company, not a political tool. Diana founded Eclipse to save lives, not to funnel benefits to certain families."
Dr. Mitchell also stood. "I support this decision. We need to return to Eclipse's original purpose."
One by one, old employees voiced their support.
Only Linda, Kevin, and a few of Raymond's people remained silent, faces grim.
"Any other questions?" I surveyed the room.
No one spoke.
"Good," I continued. "Second matter. Mr. Anderson, I want you to immediately initiate a comprehensive audit. Investigate all anomalous transactions over the past three years. Anyone involved in embezzlement or fund misappropriation will be reported to authorities directly."
"Understood," Anderson quickly made notes.
"Third," I stood, hands braced on the table, leaning forward. "I know some of you here are Raymond's people, some loyal to the Hyde family. I'm giving you a choice—either resign now and take severance, or stay, be loyal to Eclipse, be loyal to me."
My gaze swept across every face. "But if you choose to stay and dare betray us... face the consequences."
The conference room's pressure dropped to freezing.
The meeting lasted nearly two hours. Each department head reported their work and proposed improvements. Throughout, I could clearly distinguish who was genuinely working and who was just occupying a position.
When the meeting ended, I announced, "Linda Vaughn and Kevin Ashford, please stay. Everyone else may leave."
Executives filed out. At the door, Dr. Mitchell turned back. "Miss Verdant, I'm so glad you're back. Eclipse needs you."
James Torres nodded too. "Diana would be proud of you."
When only four people remained in the conference room—me, Anderson, Linda, and Kevin—the atmosphere instantly froze.
"I don't like wasting time, so I'll be direct," I began, voice calm but icy. "You two are Raymond's plants, correct?"
Linda and Kevin exchanged glances, faces ugly.
"Miss Verdant, I don't understand what you mean—" Kevin tried to deflect.
"Shut up," I cut him off. "I've had people investigate your backgrounds. Linda, you were promoted three months after Raymond took office, previously just an ordinary salesperson. Kevin, your law firm's biggest client is Hyde Global Holdings."
I stood, walking toward them. "I'm giving you a choice. Resign voluntarily, I'll give you respectable severance. Or wait for me to find evidence of your embezzlement and report you directly."
Linda's face went deathly pale. "I... I didn't embezzle..."
"So you're admitting you're a Hyde family spy?"
Silence.
"Submit your resignation letters to Mr. Anderson before close of business tomorrow," I said. "Otherwise, I'll have Legal sue you."
Linda and Kevin left in disgrace.
Anderson closed the door, letting out a long breath. "That was excellent. Those two have been company tumors, but Raymond protected them. We couldn't touch them."
"Are there others who need clearing out?"
"A few middle managers, but none as serious as these two," Anderson said. "I'll give you a list. Also..." he hesitated, "are you really making Mia your assistant? She only graduated recently."
"Precisely because of that," I said. "She hasn't been contaminated by Raymond, and she's not in any faction. Plus... she genuinely respected my mother."
Anderson showed a gratified smile. "Understood. I'll arrange it."
"One more thing," I said. "Schedule a board meeting for tomorrow at nine AM. I want to personally report the company situation to all directors."
"Understood."
---
When I returned to the west wing, it was nearly 7 PM.
I kicked off my heels, let down my hair, changed out of the suit.
But I didn't rest.
Pulling on training gear, I headed to the west wing's private training room—Father had built this for my twelfth birthday, equipped with complete combat equipment.
Three years.
Three years since I'd truly used this space.
I pushed open the door, turned on the lights. The familiar smell of rubber mats hit me. Punching bags, target pads, weapon racks—everything still in place.
I began warming up. Stretches, jump rope, shadow boxing.
Movements rusty, but muscle memory was awakening.
Just as I was about to start on the bag, the door opened.
Lysander stood in the doorway, changed into light training clothes.
"I knew I'd find you here," he said, walking in. "You never know when to rest."
"I'm fine," I said. "Besides, you promised to train me in combat techniques after you got back."
Lysander smiled. "I did say that. So here I am."
He approached, surveying the training room. "Nice equipment. Looks like your father once took your training seriously."
"Once," I repeated the word, tone bitter.
Lysander didn't pursue the topic. He walked to the center of the mat. "Come. Let me see your current level."
I joined him opposite, assuming fighting stance.
"Rules are simple," Lysander said. "You attack with full force, I'll only defend. I want to assess your speed, strength, and technique."
"Understood."
"Begin."
I immediately struck.
Right straight punch—blocked.
Left hook—evaded.
Front kick—deflected.
My speed was indeed fast. The morning run had proven that. But strength... strength wasn't enough.
Lysander easily neutralized every attack, face even showing calm amusement.
"Speed's good," he commented. "But your punches feel like tickling."
I gritted my teeth, increasing attack tempo.
Continuous combinations—jab, hook, cross, elbow strike.
Lysander remained effortless.