Chapter 3 - The Bureaucratic Wall
The document clipped to the back of Annie's file was a standard corporate medical accommodation request form, dated five months prior.
Applicant: Carter, Annie. Position: Domestic Support. Request: Subsidy or specialized replacement grant for advanced osseointegrated or articulated prosthetic limb. Estimated Cost: $14,500.
Beneath the request, stamped in bright crimson ink, was a single word: REJECTED.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Who signed this denial?"
Daniel swallowed hard, reading the signature block. "Javier Vance. Head of Human Resources."
"Vance," Vincent murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a death sentence. Vance was a middle-management bureaucrat Vincent had inherited during the acquisition of a subsidiary three years ago—a man who prided himself on cutting departmental expenditures by arbitrary percentages to secure his annual performance bonus.
"According to estate compliance policy," Daniel explained quickly, sensing the gathering storm in Vincent's eyes, "routine medical devices for entry-level staff are capped at a baseline insurance tier. Vance’s automated cost-cutting algorithm automatically flags and rejects any prosthetic replacement request exceeding three thousand dollars if the employee has been with the company for less than a year, deeming it a 'pre-existing personal liability.'"
Vincent stared at the paper, his fingers curling over the edge of the folder until the cardboard creaked.
"A pre-existing personal liability," Vincent repeated, his voice dangerously low. "She lost that leg somewhere, probably working twice as hard as any of us to survive, and Vance treats her body like a depreciating warehouse forklift whose tires are bald."
At that moment, Annie walked past the hallway intersection pushing a rolling utility cart filled with fresh towels. As she shifted her weight to navigate a slight dip in the antique hardwood floor, her knee hitched audibly. She winced, closed her eyes for a single second, drew in a steadying breath, and kept pushing forward without a word of complaint.
Vincent didn't yell. He didn't summon Vance immediately. Master Vincent Graves operated with the cold, calculating precision of a chess grandmaster. When an opponent made a fatal blunder, you didn't knock the board over; you trap them slowly until escape becomes mathematically impossible.
"Daniel," Vincent said softly.
"Sir?"
"Get the financial audits for human resources over the last twenty-four months. Every travel expense, every bonus allocation, every administrative sign-off approved by Javier Vance."
"You want to audit HR?"
"No," Vincent replied, a chilling smile touching his lips. "I want to dismantle an empire of mediocrity, starting with the man who thinks human beings are line items on an expense report."
"Understood. And Annie?"
May you like
Vincent watched as Annie stopped to help a younger kitchen hand fix an apron knot, laughing softly at something the girl whispered.
"Leave her be for now," Vincent commanded, turning on his heel. "I want to see how far this house has rotted from the top down before I bring the hammer down."
