Chapter 232: The Board

*Bael’s POV*

The private elevator opens directly onto the executive floor.

Shen Rui is waiting.

Pei Xuan and Mu Huang stand a step behind him, each holding a folder. They straighten as soon as Bael steps out.

"President Wuchen."

"President."

"Good morning, Sir."

Bael gives them a brief nod and continues toward his office.

Shen Rui falls into step beside him.

"The board is assembled. Director Han has called the meeting to order, but they’re waiting for you before proceeding."

"Of course they are."

"The stock has fallen another zero point eight percent since the market opened. Trading volume is unusually high. Investor relations has received repeated requests for clarification from Linsec, Vantage, and several institutional shareholders."

"Have investor relations issue the prepared statement."

"It has already been drafted. Legal is reviewing it."

"Release it once legal clears the language. No speculation. No reference to the investigation beyond what has already entered the public record."

"Understood."

"The police?"

"No formal statement regarding your involvement has been released."

"Keep monitoring it."

"Yes."

They reach the entrance to his office.

Shen Rui opens the folder in his hand.

"The directors who supported Han’s resolution have also been moving funds through the subsidiaries under their supervision. Twenty-three percent of the group’s liquid capital remains subject to their direct approval. Another nine percent is routed through subsidiary investment committees and affiliated vehicles."

"Which subsidiaries?"

He lists them.

Bael listens without interrupting.

Pei Xuan places a second folder into Shen Rui’s hand. Mu Huang remains silent beside him, his attention fixed on the documents and the corridor ahead. Neither of them speaks unless addressed.

"Centralize the twenty-three percent," Bael says.

Shen Rui’s eyes remain on the folder.

"The affiliated vehicles as well?"

"No. Leave them in place."

He understands the distinction.

"Understood."

"Revoke the delegated signing authority of every director in the first group. Treasury transfers, acquisition approvals, subsidiary appointments, and investment committee disbursements."

"Effective immediately?"

"Effective before the meeting ends."

Shen Rui’s gaze lifts briefly, just for a second, before he lowers it again.

"Yes, Sir."

"Reconstitute the affected investment committees. Central treasury, legal, and risk management will hold the controlling seats. The subsidiaries may retain two representatives from their existing committees."

"And the directors?"

"They retain their board seats."

Bael looks toward the conference room at the end of the corridor.

"They also retain the responsibilities they were so eager to defend."

Shen Rui closes the folder.

"Understood."

***

Shen Rui pushes open the conference room doors.

The conversation inside dies at once as Bael steps in.

Twenty-three directors sit around the long black table. Most turn toward him immediately. A few remain still for a half-second too long — the particular stillness of men who had been saying something they had no intention of saying in his presence.

Han rises halfway from his chair.

"Chairman."

Bael walks past him without answering.

His seat waits at the head of the table.

He sits.

Shen Rui takes his position behind Bael’s right shoulder. Pei Xuan and Mu Huang remain near the wall with the executive staff, silent and attentive.

The directors settle. Not comfortably.

Bael places his phone face-down on the table.

"Continue."

Han lowers himself back into his chair. For a moment he appears to be deciding whether to resent the interruption or pretend it never happened. He chooses the latter.

"As everyone here understands, Wuchen Group is facing a serious reputational crisis."

Bael leans back and studies him.

Han has prepared his expression carefully: grave, restrained, concerned for the company. But the skin around his eyes is tight, and his thumb keeps pressing against the edge of the resolution in front of him, a small, repetitive motion he is almost certainly unaware of.

"The reopening of the Wuchen Ming investigation has unsettled our investors, partners, and employees," he continues. "The company’s share price is declining, trading volume is abnormal, and several institutional shareholders are demanding clarification regarding executive authority."

A few directors nod.

Not confidently. More like men reminding one another that they are still united.

Han continues.

"Under these circumstances, allowing the chairman to retain unrestricted executive control while being investigated in connection with the death of a former senior executive exposes the group to unnecessary risk."

Bael glances at the documents in front of Han.

"Unnecessary risk."

Han’s gaze flickers toward him.

"Yes."

"The stock is falling, investors are panicking, subsidiaries are moving capital without centralized oversight."

Han’s expression tightens.

"That is precisely why—"

"And while all of this is happening," Bael says, "you called a board meeting to discuss removing the person responsible for managing the crisis."

The room goes still.

Han’s mouth closes.

Bael looks around the table slowly, letting his gaze settle on each face long enough for the silence to do its work.

"Which of you has been coordinating with investor relations?"

No one answers.

"Which of you has reviewed the liquidity position of the subsidiaries under your supervision?"

Silence.

"Which of you has spoken to the institutional shareholders demanding clarification?"

A director near the window shifts in his chair, recrossing his legs and looking toward the window as though something outside suddenly required his attention.

Han straightens.

"Chairman, the board has been acting within its authority."

"I didn’t ask whether you were acting within your authority."

Bael’s voice remains calm.

"I asked what you were doing for the company."

No one moves.

The silence is no longer procedural. It has weight now. Several directors lower their eyes to the folders in front of them. One reaches for his pen, then thinks better of it and sets it back down.

Han’s fingers tighten around the resolution, that thumb pressing again, harder now.

"The board’s responsibility is to protect the company from executive risk."

"Your responsibility is to protect the company."

Bael looks directly at him.

"You have mistaken a resolution for a strategy."

Han manages to hold his expression steady, but something tightens along his jaw, a small shift that lasts only a second before he controls it. His thumb presses harder against the edge of the resolution.

"The resolution is not punitive," he says. "It is a temporary protective measure. No one is asking you to resign, Sir. We are asking you to step aside from executive authority until the investigation is concluded."

"While the company’s stock continues to fall."

"We believe temporary separation would reassure the market."

"Based on what?"

Han hesitates.

That hesitation is answer enough.

Bael turns his attention to the other directors.

"Which analyst issued that recommendation?"

No one speaks.

"Which shareholder requested it?"

Still nothing.

"Which member of the risk committee approved it?"

The director responsible for risk management — a compact man named Fang who had spent the last ten minutes studying the grain of the table — goes very still. He doesn’t look up. He simply stops moving entirely, as though stillness might make him invisible.

Bael lets the silence stretch.

They had come prepared to question his judgment. They had not expected to be asked to account for their own.

Han places both hands flat on the table.

"Chairman, this is not the purpose of the meeting."

"No," Bael says. "The purpose of this meeting is to suspend my authority while the people responsible for managing the company explain why they abandoned their duties to prepare a resolution."

The words land harder than his tone.

A director at the far end of the table swallows visibly, his throat moving. Another glances toward Han, a quick, sideways look, and finds nothing reassuring in what he sees there.

Han’s composure begins to fracture along its edges.

"We have not abandoned anything."

"Then you should have no difficulty demonstrating what you have accomplished."

Bael turns slightly toward Shen Rui.

"Distribute the documents."

Shen Rui steps forward.

Pei Xuan and Mu Huang move with him, placing folders in front of every director with quiet efficiency. The sound of paper against polished wood is the only sound in the room.

Han looks down at his copy. His brows draw together slowly.

"What is this?"

"Your performance review."

His eyes snap up.

Bael opens his own folder.

"Not the one prepared by human resources. The one prepared from the company’s actual records."

The first page contains the current market position. The second lists the subsidiaries under each director’s supervision. The third shows delayed reports, unapproved transfers, missed risk escalations, and unresolved investor inquiries, each line itemized, dated, and signed.

Bael turns the page.

"Director Han, the eastern regional division has missed two reporting deadlines, failed to submit a revised liquidity forecast, and allowed three major suppliers to escalate payment concerns directly to the executive office."

Han’s face hardens into something flat and careful.

"That division’s difficulties are temporary."

"Then you should have managed them before they became visible to the market."

Bael turns to the next director without pausing.

"Director Lin, the western subsidiaries have exceeded their approved discretionary spending limits and failed to reconcile several intercompany transfers."

Lin flips through the pages faster, his fingers moving with more urgency than he likely intends. A slight tremor runs through the paper as he holds it.

"...That information is incomplete."

"It is complete enough to show that you signed the approvals."

The color leaves his face in a way that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

"Director Zhao, investor relations has logged fourteen unanswered requests from institutional shareholders under your oversight."

Zhao’s lips part. He closes them. Opens them again.

"I... I was waiting for guidance from the executive office."

"You were waiting while the stock fell."

He lowers his eyes to the table.

"Director Qiao, the supply chain committee has not convened in eleven days despite three active disruption notices."

Qiao’s hand tightens around his pen until his knuckles whiten.

"We were preparing—"

"You were preparing this resolution."

No one interrupts after that.