Chapter 3: The 24-Page Dagger

Chapter 3: The 24-Page Dagger

The document Liam placed on his desk Saturday morning didn't look like the product of a seventy-two-hour, caffeine-fueled descent into the worst of human nature. It was clean, precise, and lethally sharp. Twenty-four pages, single-spaced, printed on high-grade paper and bound in a simple, funereal black cover. The title on the front was sterile and corporate: Henderson & Son Contracting: An Audit of Fraudulent Claims and Conduct Violations. But Liam knew it for what it was. A prosecutor's brief. A character assassination backed by irrefutable data. A dagger forged in the fires of hate-filled phone calls, and he was about to press it into the company’s hand.

On Monday morning, he bypassed his own office and went straight to David Chen’s. David was on the phone, but he saw Liam through the glass and motioned him in, ending his call abruptly.

“You’re done,” David stated, not asking. He’d seen the lights on in Liam’s office all weekend.

Liam didn’t say a word. He simply placed a copy of the report on the gleaming surface of David’s desk. The quiet thud it made seemed to suck the air out of the room.

David picked it up, his eyes scanning the table of contents. He flipped through the pages, his expression shifting from grim curiosity to impressed disbelief. He paused, reading a transcribed excerpt, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Jesus, Liam.”

“There are audio files embedded in the digital version, linked in Appendix D,” Liam said, his voice a flat monotone. “They’re… illustrative.”

David closed the report and looked up, his gaze sharp and calculating. “The VP of Client Relations, Marcus Thorne, is flying in from Chicago today. I want you to present this to both of us. Two o’clock. Boardroom.”

It was a test. And an opportunity. Marcus Thorne was two levels above David, a man whose time was measured in thousands of dollars per hour. To get an unscheduled audience with him was unheard of. To be asked to present a case against a low-value, high-noise client was a sign that this had escalated beyond a simple dispute. This was now about setting a precedent.

At two o’clock sharp, Liam walked into the main boardroom. The room was designed to intimidate, a long slab of polished obsidian for a table surrounded by twenty leather chairs. The floor-to-ceiling glass on one side offered a god-like view of the city, humbled and sprawling below. David was already there, along with a man Liam recognized from company-wide town halls. Marcus Thorne was in his fifties, with silvering hair and a stillness that spoke of immense, unshakeable authority. He didn't radiate warmth; he radiated power.

“Mr. Carter,” Thorne said, his voice a low baritone that commanded attention. “David tells me you have a solution to our Henderson problem.”

“I have a case,” Liam corrected, taking his seat. He slid a copy of the report to Thorne. “The solution will depend on how you want to proceed once you’ve heard it.”

For the next twenty minutes, Liam walked them through the document. He was a model of dispassionate analysis, the calm of a surgeon before the first incision. He began with the business case, the pure data.

“Scott Henderson’s claim that our system is faulty is demonstrably false,” he began, pointing to a graph on the screen projecting the report’s key findings. “In the last six months, our Call Tracking Numbers have delivered one hundred and seventeen qualified leads to his business. His conversion rate is less than five percent, an industry-low. The problem is not our technology. The problem is Mr. Henderson.”

He detailed three instances of what he termed ‘lead self-sabotage’. He ended with the crown jewel.

“Two months ago, we delivered a lead from a property management firm for a fifty-unit apartment complex refurbishment. A contract conservatively estimated at over one hundred thousand dollars.” Liam’s eyes met Thorne’s. “Mr. Henderson turned it down, claiming he was booked for the next eighteen months. His reason, captured on a hot mic after the client disconnected, was that he refused to send his men to work in that specific neighborhood.” Liam paused for effect. “He referred to it as ‘that jungle’.”

Thorne’s poker face was perfect, but Liam saw the fractional tightening around his eyes.

“That covers the fraudulent refund claim,” Liam continued, seamlessly transitioning. “Which, as you’ll see in section two, is secondary to the conduct violations.” He advanced to the next slide. It was a simple, damning list of transcribed slurs. “Appendix C contains audio logs of eighteen separate calls in which Mr. Henderson uses racist and abusive language toward former account manager Priya Patel. These are direct violations of our terms of service.”

He let the ugly words hang in the sterile air of the boardroom. David stared at the table, his jaw clenched.

“Finally,” Liam said, his voice dropping slightly, becoming even colder. “There is the issue of brand liability. We are, by extension, endorsing Henderson & Son Contracting every day his account remains active. I’d like to play you one final call.”

He clicked the mouse. The voice of the young, anxious army wife filled the silent, expensive room, pleading for help with her leaking roof. It was followed by Henderson’s sneering dismissal. “Not my problem. Your husband should’ve thought of that before running off to play hero in the sand.”

The click of the disconnected call echoed in the boardroom.

Marcus Thorne let out a slow, quiet breath. He looked at David, then fixed his piercing gaze on Liam. There was no caution in his eyes, no corporate hand-wringing. There was something else: a flicker of admiration.

“Mr. Carter,” Thorne said, his voice dangerously soft. “This is… meticulous. It’s surgical. You haven’t just built a defense; you’ve built a gallows.” He leaned forward, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling. “Forget denying the refund. That’s a given. What’s your recommendation?”

The moment of truth. Liam had anticipated this. This was where he would either be reined in or unleashed.

“My recommendation is a proactive engagement,” Liam said calmly. “I will schedule a video conference with Mr. Henderson to discuss his refund request. I will briefly summarize these findings. I will inform him his contract is being terminated for cause. When he inevitably balks, I will offer him a new, non-negotiable contract at triple the price, effective immediately, to reflect the actual market rate and a significant ‘difficult client’ surcharge.”

David’s eyebrow shot up. This was aggressive.

“He’ll refuse,” Thorne stated.

“Of course he will,” Liam agreed, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. “He’ll cancel his service in a fit of rage. When he does, he’ll have voluntarily terminated his own account, voiding any claim he thinks he has. And when he threatens to sue us, which he will, I will politely offer to send his lawyer this entire report, complete with the embedded audio files of every racist, abusive, and negligent thing he’s ever said to an Apex employee.”

A heavy silence settled over the table. David looked from Liam to Thorne, waiting for the verdict.

Marcus Thorne leaned back in his chair and a slow, cold smile spread across his face. He looked at Liam not as an account manager, but as a newly discovered and highly valuable weapon in the corporate arsenal.

“David,” Thorne said without taking his eyes off Liam. “Give Mr. Carter whatever he needs. A free hand. I want this liability off our books, and I want Mr. Henderson to remember our name every time he even thinks about trying to bully someone again.” He stood. “Well done, Carter. Carry on.”

With that, the VP walked out of the room.

Liam was left with David, the city skyline gleaming behind them. He had their backing. He had his orders.

The plan was set. They would not defend. They would attack.