Sabotaged Presentation: A CEO’s Sudden U-Turn

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the clicker when the first slide appeared on screen. The projector flickered, throwing stark, accusing shadows across the wall. I took a deep, shuddering breath, the sudden, piercing chill from the AC vent raising goosebumps on my arms. “Good morning,” I began, my voice unnaturally high in the cavernous room, scanning faces.

Then I saw it, an impossible red line scrawled across the core financial data, skewing every projection. My stomach dropped, a sour taste of bile coating my tongue. This wasn’t my slide; this was sabotage. I remembered seeing Ben hunched over my laptop last night, his unsettling smirk when he claimed he was “just checking the Wi-Fi.”

“This data is completely erroneous, Ms. Evans,” the CEO boomed, his voice a low growl reverberating through the stunned silence. “No, sir, it… it wasn’t like this,” I stammered, my face burning with shame, my throat dry. Ben, from the back row, cleared his throat, a theatrical, far-too-loud sound. He caught my eye, a glint of triumph.

A sudden, piercing siren wailed deafeningly close outside, shattering the tense atmosphere. The CEO’s private line vibrated violently on the table, and his eyes widened as he read the screen, his complexion draining. He looked up at me, his expression suddenly unreadable, a flicker of fear in his gaze.

“We have to go,” he said, pointing at my screen. “What in God’s name is *that*?”

👇 Full story continued in the comments…The CEO’s voice cracked, losing its authority. “Get out of here, Ms. Evans. Now.” He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair, the scraping sound echoing in the sudden hush. Security guards began to swarm the room, their faces grim, and began pushing everyone towards the exits. Chaos erupted.

I, along with the rest of the presentation attendees, were herded out of the building. Panic seized the crowd as we spilled onto the street, the relentless siren a constant, throbbing reminder of the emergency. People stumbled over each other, desperate to escape. I found myself separated, struggling against the current. I saw Ben, his face a mask of feigned concern, trying to navigate through the melee.

That’s when I saw it – the same red line, now projected onto the side of the building, a grotesque mimicry of the corrupted data on my screen. It was huge, almost a city-wide projection, looping and glitching. Then the image shifted, resolving itself into a message: “THEY KNOW.”

I looked around at the fleeing people, and then at the building. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. I pulled out my phone, dialing the number for IT, desperate to get answers. The line buzzed, and then a recorded message played: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

The city around me, the whole world, seemed to be spiraling into madness.

A dark vehicle roared to a halt beside me, its tinted windows obscuring the occupants within. The driver, a man whose face was hidden beneath the brim of a cap, shouted, “Get in! We don’t have time!”

I hesitated, fear warring with a desperate need for answers. Then, a second red line appeared on the sky – this time, crossing the building diagonally as if slicing through the structure. In the distance, I could see the first signs of the building beginning to shake, a slow, shuddering tremor that promised collapse. I had no choice.

I lunged into the car. The doors slammed shut and the car screeched away. The last thing I saw before we disappeared into the growing urban panic was the building starting to fall, with the red line still cutting right through it. The CEO was on my case and now I had to do something before it’s too late. And I know exactly where to start.