World Domination Begins With Getting a System in a Modern World

James woke up the next morning, feeling very groggy. His body ached slightly from lack of sleep, and his first instinct was to roll over and bury himself back into the sheets. But the moment he glanced at the time, he groaned.

"Ugh... a gathering at 7:30 AM," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed.

He trudged into the ensuite bathroom and took a quick, cold shower — just enough to jolt his senses awake. Once he was dressed — a clean white polo and tailored slacks — he grabbed his phone and the Range Rover key fob from the dresser and headed downstairs.

To his surprise, the scent of warm food greeted him.

Patty was already in the kitchen, apron off, setting the table just as he entered.

He smiled faintly as he remembered how upset Patty was lady Thursday, when he got back from the country club looking very famished, as he had nothing to eat for the whole day. And he had refused to wait for breakfast as he was running late.

So this time, she decided to wake up earlier and make him something to eat.

James greeted Patty, took his seat quickly and started eating. When he finished, he wiped his mouth, thanked her sincerely, and headed out.

Moments later, the Range Rover eased out of the driveway, rolling down the familiar road toward the Bel-Air Country Club.

***

It had been over a week since James and Alina began the takedown operation against the McCullens — a carefully calculated campaign meant to erode Cullen Corp’s foundation piece by piece.

At first, the company barely noticed. A few whispers on finance blogs. One or two questions raised in niche investor forums. A glitch in their compliance paperwork. A delayed export license in one of their logistics divisions.

To the board and Edward McCullen, these were nothing but minor irritations.

But what happened yesterday changed everything.

In just one day, Cullen Corp lost a potential profit of more than $13m.

And the reason?

A sudden, highly publicized investigation.

Triggered quietly by a high-level federal contact that Mr Harrington had tactfully nudged through back channels, the FBI had officially flagged Cullen Corp in connection with several irregularities — the kind that raised red flags across multiple federal departments.

It began with a sealed request for internal audit records from the company’s cybersecurity arm.

Then, a second demand arrived from the IRS, requesting tax declarations and employee compensation data for the last five years.

Soon after, a civil suit was filed in Manhattan by a seemingly random third-party whistleblower — a shell entity legally linked to the very a legal firm that Mr. Harrington is coordinating with.

Cullen Corp’s investor and partner confidence took a nosedive. Strategic backers began pulling out of pending ventures, while private equity firms quietly distanced themselves — canceling meetings, suspending fund injections, and "reviewing" their exposure clauses. A few long-time advisory firms even began withdrawing support, citing reputational risk.

Overnight, several corporate clients froze ongoing deals pending "internal reviews."

Their European logistics arm reported two cancelled contracts, citing "compliance concerns."

But it wasn’t just the headlines that hurt.

All those "minor inconveniences" the board had brushed off earlier in the week — now they’d become structural vulnerabilities.

One of their warehouses in Arizona had experienced a mysterious three-day power outage that disrupted supply chain tracking systems and delayed several outbound shipments.

Their Southeast Asia distribution partner — a quiet but critical cog in their offshore operation — had just withdrawn from a long-standing licensing deal, citing "data leak concerns."

Internal emails among senior managers had mysteriously surfaced on a gossip-laced financial blog, exposing bonus negotiations, cost-cutting schemes, and covert layoffs masked as performance purges.

Even minor digital anomalies — like an auto-scheduling glitch in their employee HR portal — were now getting scrutinized as deliberate cyber tampering.

Everything was unraveling.

And now, in the company’s heavily boardroom, Cullen Corp’s senior executives sat in a tense, half-lit emergency session.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

Papers were strewn across the dark oak conference table. A massive digital screen displayed a live feed of their tanking stock.

On the far end, a financial risk consultant muttered hurriedly into a phone, coordinating damage control with a PR team who hadn’t slept since the news broke.

At the head of the table sat Edward McCullen, CEO and patriarch of the McCullen legacy.

Normally composed and calculating, Edward now looked ragged — deep lines etched around his eyes, jaw clenched as he reviewed a damning report in front of him.

"This..." he said slowly, voice gravelly, "isn’t an isolated incident. This is coordinated."

No one spoke. What could they possibly say that’s new?

Edward glanced up at the executives seated around the table — familiar faces, most of whom had been with the company for over a decade. He was expecting them to say something. But they kept mum.

He was about to yell at them, then his phone rang.

A chill ran through his spine when he saw the caller ID.

The screen simply read: Dark

His mouth dried instantly.

He stood, stepped back from the table, and answered the call. His voice neutral and forcibly calm, but the nervous was undeniable.

"Edward."

The voice on the other end was deep, gruff, and heavy with menace.

It was a voice Edward hadn’t heard directly in nearly five years, and one he never wanted to hear again. freewёbnoνel.com

"I heard what happened yesterday."

Edward remained silent.

"I also heard you lost something that doesn’t belong to you."

Edward gulped, his fist tightening around the phone.

"We’re working on it," he said carefully.

"Don’t bullshit me. The boss already knows."

Silence. Stifling and uncomfortable silence.

"He sent a message."

Edward’s jaw clenched. "What message?"

"If you don’t fix this in 48 hours, he’ll send someone to fix it. I’m sure you know how the fixes things?."

The line crackled with quiet intensity.

Edward swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

"Tell him I’ll handle it. Personally. I’ll fix everything before the time’s up."

The voice chuckled coldly. "You better."

Then, just before hanging up, the voice added, "You don’t want to be made an example. I hope you haven’t forgotten why happens to those that loses the boss belongings. He always finds a way to get it back."

Click.

The call ended.

Edward stared at the dead screen for a full five seconds, then slowly lowered the phone.

He returned to the table — slower now, hunched — and dropped heavily into his chair.

Beads of sweat dotted his brow. His hands trembled slightly, and his complexion had gone pale.

The executives noticed instantly. They exchanged worried glances, uncertain whether to speak or wait.

Edward saw their stares, their hushed whispers — and exploded.

"Start digging!" he roared, voice slamming into the walls like a cannon blast.

"Find whoever’s behind this! I don’t care if you have to burn through five million in bribes and trackers! If this ship sinks, I’m not the only one going down — you all drown with me!"

The silence in the room was immediate and absolute.

No one argued. No one dared.

One by one, the board members stood, gathered their files, and filed out without another word.

When the door finally clicked shut behind the last executive, Edward leaned back, his breathing shallow.

He stared at the conference table, eyes glassy.

Then he muttered through clenched teeth:

"Whoever you are... I’ll find you."

His voice was low and venomous.

"And when I do... I’ll make you wish you never crossed me."

***

Meanwhile, the culprit was just coming back from his afternoon practice session with Mr Donovan.