From Outcast Contract Worker to Chairman

My phone buzzed almost immediately with a reply from my secretary, Frances Kenin.

[Understood, Ms. Turner. The final document for the equity transfer has taken effect. As of now, you are the largest individual shareholder of the company. Your identity will be formally announced at the annual gala at six this evening.]

I looked at the message and felt nothing.

I had hidden this identity for seven years.

Seven years ago, just after I graduated from college, my father's company was targeted by a hostile takeover and pushed to the brink of bankruptcy.

Overnight, his hair turned white. Then came the heart attack that sent him into the emergency room.

Before he died, he transferred the last 5% of his concealed shares to me.

"Alexia… don't seek revenge. Just live well."

Those were his final words.

I promised him.

What I didn't say was that I would take back everything that belonged to our family—my own way.

For seven years, I worked at this company as a contract worker, earning the lowest salary and doing the hardest work.

At the same time, I leveraged the financial knowledge I'd gained in college to navigate the stock market.

Using the money my father left me as seed capital, I quietly bought back the diluted shares, bit by bit.

From 5% to 10%, from 10% to 30%.

Until 4:00 p.m. today, when my holdings reached 51%.

I became the absolute controlling shareholder of this billion-dollar conglomerate.

And the people in the marketing department knew nothing about it.

To them, I was still the same contract worker they could humiliate at will.

My phone buzzed again—a message from the department group chat.

I tapped it open.

A large group photo filled the screen. Behind them was a lavish hotel ballroom, glittering with gold. The tables were piled high with exquisite dishes.

Kevin stood in the center, his beer belly pushed forward, his face flushed with pride.

Bianca sat on his lap, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

The caption, posted by Kevin, read: [Alright, team—dig in! Tonight, we drink till we drop!]

The replies flooded in.

[Thank you, Mr. Davis!]

[Stick with Mr. Davis and you'll never go hungry!]

[Hope everyone hits the jackpot tonight!]

I scrolled through the chat without expression.

Halfway down, a new image popped up.

It was from Bianca.

The photo showed stacks of cash piled into a small hill—at least tens of thousands of dollars.

[Year-end bonuses for everyone! Mr. Davis is the best!]

The chat exploded again.

[Holy crap, that much?!]

[I love this company! I love Mr. Davis!]

I smiled faintly.

That money had all been approved by me.

This "contract worker" was the one who decided the bonuses for these full-time employees.

Wasn't that ironic?

I closed the chat and opened the report Kevin had dumped on me.

He thought he was making things difficult for me. What he didn't know was that this was exactly what I needed. The report was riddled with loopholes—even ones he himself didn't understand. Every single one was evidence that could bring him down.

I turned on screen recording software and captured my entire process.

As I corrected the data, I logged everything in my document.

[5:30 p.m.: Began processing Kevin's "Q1 Marketing Review Report."]

[Issue 1: Q1 promotional expenses overstated by 37%.]

[Evidence: Discrepancy between backend raw data and reported figures; the difference amounts to 1.39 million dollars.]

[Issue 2: Suspected kickbacks involving Vendor A.]

[Evidence: Purchase prices exceed market rates by 60%; contract approved by Kevin; receiving account shares the same name as his wife's cousin.]

My typing grew faster and faster.

Outside, the sky had turned completely dark. Neon lights flickered on across the city, and distant bursts of fireworks echoed in the night.

New Year's Eve had arrived.

I sent the report to Kevin.

But when he forwarded the document to the board of directors' group chat, the name on it had been changed to "Bianca."