BEHIND US

XII

The Empire Cracks

Inside the glass fortress of HOORNE’S LIMITED headquarters, chaos reigned.

Phones rang endlessly. Executives scrambled in and out of closed-door meetings, their faces pale and drenched in panic. Security guards stood at every hallway intersection, stern and alert. HR reps were already escorting employees out—silent, stunned workers clutching boxes of personal belongings.

In the corner office on the 27th floor, Chairman Pravit Hoorne stood like a statue, hands clasped behind his back, eyes locked on the screen displaying the live news broadcast.

“…the leaked documents suggest illegal funds were transferred to off-shore accounts under code names tied to Hoorne’s own board members…”

His jaw tightened.

Behind him, Vice President Salinee, his long-time partner in the company, finally dared to speak.

“This wasn’t random. Someone planned this too precisely. Whoever did it… they knew our weak points. They didn’t just expose us—they humiliated us.”

Pravit turned slowly. “It’s not just someone. It’s them.”

Salinee frowned. “You mean—”

“Yes. The Waraha children,” he hissed. “Chris… Snack… those damn kids.”

“You think they could have pulled this off? Alone?”

“They had help, I’m sure. But the signature is clear. This was personal. They want revenge—for what we did to Engfa.”

Salinee’s face went pale. “If this gets to the authorities—”

“It already has,” Pravit cut her off. “The Financial Crime Division is coming. We have less than 12 hours to scrub what we can.”

Outside the office, a monitor showed surveillance footage: two employees being dragged into an interrogation room by internal security.

“They’re questioning everyone who had access to the servers,” Salinee whispered. “But the leak didn’t come from inside.”

“No,” Pravit said. “It came from someone who was inside. Someone who knew the company like family.”

He turned back to the screen as footage of protestors filled the news feed. Some held signs with slogans like “Justice for Engfa Waraha” and “Burn the Empire”.

Pravit’s voice dropped, dangerously calm. “Send a message. Find them. I don’t care what it takes. If the Waraha kids want war… they’ll get it.”

.....

Back at their modest secret basement underground their house, Snack poured hot tea into two chipped mugs. The kettle hissed like the tension that hung between her and her younger brother. The walls were lined with sticky notes, maps, and screenshots—evidence, plans, fallback contacts. War room vibes.

Chris sat cross-legged on the floor, tapping at his laptop, eyes scanning layers of code and encryption logs. “They’re moving fast. HOORNE’s already scrubbing data, threatening journalists, spinning the story.”

“Typical. But we’re not giving them the chance to recover,” Snack said, handing him a mug. “We need to move before they shift the narrative.”

Chris took a slow sip. “Yeah, but we also need backup. We rattled a giant. And it’s about to strike back.”

As if on cue, the door creaked open.

A tall woman entered—graceful but fierce. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight braid, and the scar over her left eyebrow told stories no file ever could.

“Daddy,” Snack whispered, stunned. “You’re supposed to be in hiding.”

Engfa Waraha stepped into the light, his presence commanding. “Not when my children declare war on HOORNE. I taught you better than that. If you’re going to fight... fight to win.”

Chris stood, guilt flickering across his face. “We didn’t mean to drag you out of hiding, Dada.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t drag me. I saw what you did. And I’m proud—but now I lead.”

Chris smirked. “We’ve been waiting for that.”

Engfa walked over to the wall, scanning the mess of strings and intel, then turned to his kids. “We’re not just leaking anymore. It’s time to expose the real skeletons—the part even the media hasn’t seen.”

Snack raised a brow. “You mean the deal they made with the military?”

Engfa nodded. “And the death of Somchai. The one they made look like an accident. He was going to testify for us, remember?”

Chris clenched his fists. “I have the draft he wrote. I cracked it last night from a wiped drive.”

Engfa smiled. “Good. Then let’s bury HOORNE. Completely. You started the fire. I’ll fan the flames.”

Snack stepped between them, her smile soft but eyes blazing. “Then let’s do it. Together. No one breaks this family. Not again.”

Chris raised his mug in a mock toast. “To war.”

Engfa raised his brow. “To justice.”

Snack grinned. “To revenge with a cause.”

🐶🐰

The Warahas' are hot? Right?