The sky was grey that morning, clouds hanging low like the weight on Phillip's shoulders.
Inside the grand headquarters of ADIG Group of Companies, the atmosphere was tense. Security personnel in sharp black suits stood alert as a line of luxury cars began pulling into the gated compound. Mercedes. Range Rovers. BMWs. The kind of cars only company executives and powerful CEOs could afford.
It was the day.
The Project Phoenix presentation.
And the entire board of directors, regional heads, shareholders, and even founding members, were arriving.
The air in the building was thick with whispers and tension. Staff members spoke in hushed tones. Some peeked into the conference wing as they passed by, wondering why there was so much movement. Why was everyone here? Why was the chairman, who barely attended board meetings, coming in person?
Something serious was about to happen.
Inside the main boardroom, long and elegantly lit, Phillip stood alone at the far end of a polished wooden table, his hands slightly trembling as he arranged his presentation remote and notes. The room was massive, and he looked small in it but determined.
The board members began entering, one by one.
Men and women in suits that are well-fitted. Some carried iPads, others briefcases. Their faces were unreadable. Their expressions are cool and firm, like the marble floor beneath them.
Phillip gave them polite nods. Some returned it. Most didn't.
Then the final door opened.
Raymond Carter stepped in.
The founder and chairman of ADIG Group.
He was known for being unpredictable. Cold sometimes, but deeply brilliant. His presence alone could silence a room, and it just did. Everyone straightened in their seats. Phones went facedown. Voices hushed.
Raymond didn't say a word. He simply walked to the seat directly opposite Phillip and sat, resting his hands on the table.
He looked directly at him.
Phillip swallowed hard. No turning back now.
He clicked the remote.
The large screen behind him lit up with a title:
"PROJECT PHOENIX – Construction Asset Sales."
There was a pause.
Phillip had named it Project Phoenix, like the mythical bird, it symbolized rebirth from destruction
Phillip named it Project Phoenix because, like the legendary bird from Greek mythology, it's a project born from fire, chaos, and collapse, but one that has the power to rise again.
He clicked again.
A new slide appeared, a graph. Red lines climbing aggressively. Blue lines are flat and still.
"This," Phillip said, pointing to the graph, "shows our current state. Rising operational costs. Stagnant revenue. ADIG Constructions, once our most promising arm, is now slowly bleeding the company dry."
The silence in the room became heavier.
Another slide appeared with detailed expenses, salaries, equipment maintenance, and low ROI.
Phillip continued, his voice clearer now. "Despite the expansion efforts and years of loyalty, the hard truth is this, ADIG Constructions is no longer sustainable. It's dragging us backward."
Then he paused.
"I recommend… we sell."
A sharp, collective breath swept through the room.
Then came silence.
The kind of silence that could break bones.
And then….
"What?" one board member finally snapped. "You want us to sell ADIG Constructions? Our foundation company?"
Another leaned forward. "This must be a joke. Is this what you call a proposal?"
A woman at the far end narrowed her eyes. "How did we even make you the company's lead strategist?"
Another added, "I heard you were good, Phillip. But what exactly are we seeing?"
A round of murmurs broke out. Some began shaking their heads, others whispering among themselves.
Phillip stood firm with his palms sweating. But he didn't look away.
"I know this is hard to hear," he said, steadying his voice. "But I've spent the past four weeks analyzing every cost, every failure, every opportunity. We can either keep holding on to a drowning asset or let it go and reinvest smartly in our more agile arms: digital real estate, renewable construction, and even e-commerce."
Raymond Carter sat quietly. Watching.
Not speaking.
Phillip continued, "Selling doesn't mean failure. It means making a hard decision before the storm hits harder. If we do this right, we don't just survive but evolve."
The tension didn't ease.
If anything, it thickened like smoke in the air.
From the far end of the table, one of the regional directors leaned forward, face twisted in disbelief.
"I don't know if you're thinking long-term, Phillip. You're thinking like a numbers guy. But this, this is blood and brick. This is legacy."
"I understand how it sounds," Phillip replied, steady but firm. "But this isn't about ego or legacy anymore. It's about survival."
The room was still volatile. People were shaking their heads, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. But Phillip pushed through the noise.
"We owe a debt that's due in less than five months. If we don't move now, we'll lose more than one subsidiary. We'll lose everything. This is the only clean shot we have, sell ADIG Constructions, clear the books, and give the rest of the company a real chance to grow again."
A few voices tried to interrupt him, but then CFO Grace Parker stood up.
Her voice was sharp, calm, and mature. The kind of voice that made even the noisiest room pause.
"We all want to act like adults in this room," she said, "but sometimes being an adult means making painful decisions for the greater good. Still..."
She paused.
"What if," she continued, "instead of selling the construction arm, we sell off half of our other subsidiaries? Between six to eight of them. It would bring in as much cash as construction, but it would avoid the noise that selling our biggest brand will cause."
A few heads turned. Some seemed to like the sound of it. A few others murmured in concern.
But then Chairman Raymond Carter cut in.
He hadn't spoken since his single question earlier.
And when Raymond spoke, the room always listened.
He looked across the table at Grace, then at everyone else.
"If we do that," he said, with a low but powerful voice, "we'll look like a collapsing empire. To our investors, our stockholders, and even to the market, what they'll see is fear. Panic. That we're scattering our cards and running."
He walked slowly toward the window, staring out over the city skyline.
"They won't see strategy. They'll see desperation. And if that happens, we'll no longer be at a point of debt, but that of survival."
The room went silent.
Then Raymond turned to Phillip.
"So tell me," he asked, "what's the going price? If we were to sell ADIG Constructions, what would we get for it?"
Phillip swallowed, took a moment to double-check his thoughts, and then said quietly, "The current market valuation pegs it at 2.5 billion dollars."
A long silence followed.
Raymond blinked, slowly.
"That's it?" he asked, his tone surprised. "That company built six of the tallest buildings in Europe. It survived two recessions. It's worth more than that, surely."
Phillip nodded respectfully. "I'll do everything I can to raise that price. There are ways, strategic partnerships, sell-off packaging, even licensing deals to sweeten the pot."
Raymond studied him quietly.
Then gave a small nod.
"We'll see."
He relaxed in his seat.
The tone of the room had shifted again, this time, toward silence and thoughtfulness. The shouting had stopped. Now everyone was just... thinking.
After a few more technical suggestions and minor debates, Raymond finally looked around the room.
"That's enough for today. We'll reconvene next week for the vote. And remember... this decision will define the next decade of ADIG's legacy. Choose wisely."
The voting process was the board's usual approach whenever a decision wasn't unanimous. Each board member had one vote, while the chairman held three.
One by one, the members began to stand, gather their things, and quietly file out of the room.
Some nodded at Phillip, still unsure. Others gave him side glances filled with doubt. But no one spoke to him directly.
When the room was nearly empty, Phillip slowly picked up his remote and laptop.
He walked back toward his office in silence, with his heart still pounding.
He reached his office, closed the door behind him, sat down slowly, and picked up his phone.
Then, with a deep breath, he typed a message into a secure chat, one that very few people even knew existed.
To: Unknown Contact
Message: "They didn't buy it completely... but the chairman is definitely in on it. I'm positive this project will be executed."
He hit send.
The screen blinked. Message Delivered.
He stared at it for a moment, then opened another chat. This one was a familiar contact saved under a simple name: Alex.
To: Alex
Message: I'm a bit free now, so we can meet later.
He sent that one too.
Then, he leaned back in his chair, with his eyes scanning the ceiling and mind already calculating what came next…. Not just in business, but in everything else.