MJ thought that nothing would faze him anymore after being in this business for a long time.

"As I was saying, the investigation has identified several persons of interest," Neville said with a smile of someone holding a very sharp knife. "Some of the findings have been quite enlightening. Let me share them with you."

The holographic display changed and revealed another set of photographs, documents, and communication logs arranged in a complex web. Neville moved a person’s picture to the center of the web, which made half the room gasp.

Ethan Goelet.

Everyone knew who Ethan was. He was a brilliant man, charming and possessed a magnetic presence that made people want to follow him. He also had a big fan club in the company that rivaled that of a pop star.

That said, the fan club let out an audible cry of protest.

"That’s impossible!"

"Not Ethan! He’s so kind!"

"There must be some mistake!"

"What is the meaning of this?" someone shouted from behind him.

But before MJ could even identify the speaker, his attention snapped to the front row.

Director Elias Cox tried to stand up from his seat in fury—or at least, he tried to.

His body jerked backward as if yanked by an invisible leash. He saw Neville watch with quiet satisfaction as the older man’s face cycled through confusion, then understanding, then cold, bitter rage. The elderly executive’s face contorted as he realized his wrists were locked to his armrests by thin bands of concentrated light.

Laser cuffs.

Director Cox snapped his head toward Neville, eyes blazing with a hatred so pure it was almost refreshing in its honesty.

MJ’s jaw dropped, and he hurriedly looked around the hall with fresh eyes and spotted them everywhere. Neville met Director Cox’s gaze and smiled.

He just... smiled?

It was the most terrifying thing MJ had ever witnessed in his entire time in the company.

"Please remain calm," Neville said calmly. "The restraints are merely a precaution. I wouldn’t want anyone to leave before I’ve finished my presentation."

There were soft blue glows encircling the wrists and ankles of at least a dozen people scattered throughout the audience. Every person on Neville’s web of connections was bound in exactly the same manner.

Director Cox. Director Anderson. There were more, but he was most surprised to see it on George Hewitt himself.

When had that happened? How did the security install restraints on that many people without anyone noticing?

Director Cox turned to look at Grayson Maxwell, but Grayson wasn’t even looking at him. Grayson was focused entirely on George Hewitt beside him. From MJ’s vantage point, he could see that Grayson’s expression was ice cold.

Neville turned back to the crowd, ignoring the scattered protests that continued to rise from various sections of the hall.

Meanwhile, George Hewitt had gone very, very pale.

The security personnel, Julius’s people, and the Hidden Guards who answered directly to Grayson moved some of their people silently through the aisles. Their presence was enough to discourage anyone from attempting something foolish.

"Now then." Neville gestured at the holographic display. "As I was saying, the investigation has identified several persons of interest."

He expanded Ethan Goelet’s image until it dominated the display, accompanied by a cascade of damning evidence.

Neville announced, his tone light and conversational. "Ethan Goelet, who took second place in our recent Project Aegis proposal competition, is currently one of the primary suspects in the death of Marcus Chen."

The fan club’s wails intensified.

"That’s impossible!"

"Ethan would never—"

"This is slander! I’ll sue you on his behalf!"

MJ winced at the chaos, but Neville was still nonchalant.

"Mr. Goelet is currently on the run." His smile sharpened. "Imperial authorities are pursuing him as we speak. I’m told they’re quite motivated."

A murmur swept through the crowd.

"But, Mr. Goelet was merely a symptom of a larger disease." Neville said, turning his attention back to the executive table, "I’d like to address something more... personal."

He turned to face Director Cox directly, and his smile widened.

"Speaking of leaking information," Neville said, his voice carrying a dark amusement. Something in his tone made several people in the audience flinch, "Aren’t you that broken pipe, Director Cox?"

The silence fell over the assembly hall.

Director Cox’s face had gone from furious to ashen. His hands clenched against the laser cuffs, the blue light flickering in response to his struggles.

As the Chief Operating Officer and Cox’s son-in-law, Director Hannel began to sweat visibly. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Hope?"

Neville turned that unsettling smile on John. "Please don’t be nervous, Director Hannel. I’m just a concerned employee."

He said it so pleasantly, so professionally, that MJ almost believed him.

Then Neville did something that made MJ’s brain go into a complete stop.

He accessed the Maxwell Central System, live, in front of three hundred witnesses.

If anyone said to him after this that Neville was just riding someone’s coattails, I’m going to smack them in the face.

He did not even use the standard executive interface that used their ID. Not even a special channel like the one the secretarial department used in cases of rechecking.

Neville simply dove into the system, completely at home. His fingers moved across holographic keyboards and inputted codes that MJ had never seen before.

The commands flew, and displays opened and closed. It seemed that Neville was even using the company’s AI as he pleased, which, in theory, shouldn’t be possible.

Why did he know that? Jake, beside him, had his jaw hanging wider as this went on.

"This might be a little over the top," Neville murmured, almost to himself. "Bear with me."

Data cascaded across the display—security protocols. Administrative logs. Financial records that were supposed to be buried under twelve layers of encryption.

Jake’s reaction was already given, but looking at the tech department’s side.

Chief Christian Leonid of Research and Development had gone white as a sheet.

Deputy Director Michael Andra of Technology looked like he was about to be sick.

It seemed that neither of them had known this was even possible.