Against the Algorithm

Chapter 66: She Signed in Silence, and the World Shifted

The third board member pushed forward slightly, voice more forceful. "We simply believe it would be wiser for you to consider a more seasoned representative. Someone with deep ties to this institution. Someone who understands how these structures work."

"I understand them," Yao said softly. "Quite well."

The man continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Perhaps we revisit the idea of a transitional council—an advisory board of your own choosing. But Chen Kaya?" His eyes narrowed. "She has no legacy here."

"She has mine." Yao said clearly.

They didn't hear her.

Or rather—they didn't want to.

"She is a dangerous political pick," one of them added flatly. "And your emotions are guiding you. You are a child wearing a crown that is too heavy."

The moment those words left his mouth, Sicheng moved. He didn't speak. Not yet. But the way he stepped forward, shoulders back, jaw tight, gaze lethal, turned the entire room colder. Wang Lan, beside him, didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Lu Sheng was smiling now. Sharp. Cold. The smile of a man who had just been given permission.

But it was Kaya who spoke next, still calm, still composed, but now with steel laced into every word. "The next person who refers to her as a little girl will find themselves facing a defamation lawsuit and a full audit of every financial decision they've made in the last twelve fiscal quarters." Her eyes gleamed like polished glass. "Do I make myself clear?"

No one moved.

Yao's breath was caught in her throat, but she didn't step back and she knew she had to fight back the urge in ducking her head and hiding away because this was not the time for that, even if she really wanted to do so. She stepped forward. "I chose her," she said, louder now. "Not because she has a legacy here but because she doesn't. Because she's clean. Because she's mine." Sicheng's hand moved to the small of her back, not pulling, supporting. She didn't need a shield. She had just lit the fire herself.

The silence that followed Yao's words hung thick in the room, heavy with tension, pride, and disbelief.

But it didn't last.

Because Kaya, who had remained composed, collected, a silent force standing at Yao's side, finally stepped forward, and when she spoke, her voice cut like a blade across glass. "You arrogant, outdated little men," she said coldly, her words silencing even the rustle of breath. "You sit here clinging to old hierarchy and legacy like it's armor while a twenty-year-old just walked into this room and earned what none of you ever could—unquestioned ownership." A pause. No one dared move. Her next words landed with ice in their marrow. "You had your chance to guide this company with foresight. Instead, you mistake caution for wisdom and tradition for competence. And now, when a rightful owner, a legal, signed, verified owner, names her representative, you think your opinions matter? That your old boardroom whispers carry weight?" She turned her sharp gaze to each man, one by one. "I'm not here for permission. I'm here because she allows it. You don't get to approve of me. She does. And now that her name sits at the top of the ledger, that's all that matters."

The doors behind them clicked open and in stepped two figures dressed in tailored suits, moving with precise, deliberate confidence.

Yao's personal lawyer, an old classmate of Sicheng's, who had graduated at the top of his class beside said man that's speciality was specifically corporate law and the Lu family's own. The room shifted. Hard.

The older executives sat back, expressions flickering with the first hints of alarm as the Lu lawyer, tall, lean, silver at the temples and eyes like a quiet executioner—stepped forward and calmly unzipped a leather case.