He adjusted his dark navy suit jacket, checked the heavy leather briefcase securely locked in his right hand, and took the private elevator to the executive floor.
Room 4000, the Grand Boardroom, was already a cauldron of muffled panic when Ethan pushed open the double mahogany doors at 7:59 AM. Around the twenty-foot walnut table sat the twelve members of the Executive Board, flanked by legal counsel, auditors, and former CEO Richard Sterling. Sterling, who had officially "retired" three days prior amidst surging public scandals, sat at the head of the table like a deposed king refusing to leave his throne. He was whispering hastily to Arthur Vance, the Chief Financial Officer and Ethan’s own second cousin—a man whose loyalty to old money had long eclipsed his loyalty to truth.
"Ethan," Sterling said, his voice dripping with condescending warmth as he gestured to an empty seat at the far end of the table. "You're just in time. We were finalizing the press release regarding the operational restructures. Sit down, let us wrap this up cleanly."
Ethan did not sit. He remained standing at the foot of the table, placing his briefcase on the polished wood with a heavy, deliberate thud.
"We aren't releasing any statements drafted by this room, Richard," Ethan replied softly, his voice cutting through the hum of the air conditioning. "Not until we address the actual state of this airline."
Arthur Vance sneered, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "Don't be dramatic, Ethan. We’ve reviewed the quarter’s performance. The union friction is standard posturing, the safety incidents were minor anomalies, and the financial write-downs are completely within acceptable risk margins. We have a unified narrative for the SEC and the press."
"A narrative," Ethan repeated, unlatching his briefcase. "That’s what you’ve been selling for a decade. A fictional story where margins increase by cutting structural maintenance, where flight crews are bullied into exceeding legally mandated flight hours, and where executive bonuses are padded by skimming from the ground staff’s pension funds."
"Careful, Ethan," warned legal counsel Harold Finch, leaning forward with a scowl. "Defamation against the board carries immediate termination and severe legal retaliation."
"It isn't defamation if it's documented in immutable ledgers," Ethan said coolly. He drew out a high-capacity drive, plugged it into the main podium terminal, and tapped the interface.
The massive wall display flared to life, illuminating the dimly lit room in stark blue light.
Instead of polished PowerPoint slides, the screen displayed a dual feed. On the left: a clear, high-definition video of Richard Sterling and Operations Director Marcus Vance in a private lounge, discussing how to conceal fatigue report statistics from FAA auditors by overriding the automated reporting software. On the right: a real-time financial audit trail, highlighted in red, tracking over forty million dollars diverted from mandatory fleet engine overhauls into off-shore holding accounts tied to board dividends.
The boardroom went dead silent. Sterling’s face drained of color, shifting from smug authority to sickly ash.
"Where did you get those logs?" Arthur stammered, standing up so fast his leather chair rolled back against the wall. "That's proprietary—that's illegal access!"
"That is a forensic audit authorized by the federal special investigator," Ethan countered, his eyes locked on Sterling. "Along with sworn testimonies from forty-three flight attendants, seventy pilots, and twelve chief mechanics who were threatened with blacklisting if they reported safety violations."
Ethan leaned forward, resting both hands on the table, projecting an authority that made the seasoned executives shrink back.
"As of 6:00 AM today, the emergency proxy votes were tabulated following the public exposure of the maintenance cover-ups. The majority shareholders have stripped the executive committee of its authority. I have been appointed interim CEO with full emergency board powers."
Sterling stood up, his hand shaking as he pointed a finger at Ethan. "You think you can just march in here and tear down thirty years of corporate structure? You're an operational manager, Ethan! You don't know how to run a global carrier! Without us, this company collapses under its own debt by Friday!"
"Without you," Ethan said, pulling a stack of formal notices from his file, "this company has a chance to survive."
He slid the documents across the table.
"Richard Sterling, Arthur Vance, Marcus Vance, and Harold Finch. You are terminated for cause, effective immediately. Your access codes are revoked. Security is waiting outside the door to escort you from the building, and federal marshals are waiting on the ground floor to serve your subpoenas."
Before Sterling could scream another protest, the double doors opened. Four uniformed security officers stepped in, accompanied by two federal agents.