Big Boss Fired Me And Tried To Slap Me, Then I Revealed My Secret Identity!

The Tables Turn

Brock, emboldened by Hannah's apparent stoicism, saw it not as strength, but as defiance. His rage escalated, fueled by the perceived insolence of the young trainee. He lunged forward, his fist a blur aimed at her face. But Hannah was faster. Years of rigorous, undisclosed training had honed her reflexes to a razor's edge. In a move too quick for the eye to fully register, her slender hand snapped upward.

“What the hell—let go of my arm, you crazy b—!” Brock gasped, his voice cracking with sudden agony.

The sharp, resonant crack of bone meeting bone echoed through the lobby as Hannah caught his wrist mid-air. Her defensive technique was flawless, her grip like steel. She twisted his forearm with sickening precision, halting his kinetic momentum and locking his joint. His immense weight, intended to crush her, was now used against him. His forward motion became a stumble, his balance utterly compromised.

Hannah’s lips pressed into an unwavering thin line, her eyes narrowing with lethal intensity. She leveraged his weight effortlessly, forcing him down. The hulking foreman, accustomed to dominating others, found himself losing control, his own strength turned against him. He grunted, surprised and disoriented by the pain and the unexpected resistance.

Suddenly, the distant commotion grew louder. Through the grand archway, four imposing figures in hotel security uniforms, flanked by the hotel's general manager, rushed into the lobby. They stopped dead, their expressions shifting from alarm to stunned reverence as they took in the scene. Towards Hannah, they bowed, their formal gestures a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded.

With a final, controlled twist, Hannah forced Brock down onto his knees. The wet slap of his body against the polished marble floor was the only sound for a moment, save for the receding thunder.

“Brock Henderson,” Hannah stated, her voice cutting through the stunned silence like ice. “You just assaulted the majority shareholder and newly appointed Chief Executive Officer of Sterling Global.”

Brock’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in paralyzed shock. His jaw sagged open, the color draining violently from his face as her words registered. The sheer impossibility of it all seemed to physically strike him. The trainee, the gutter rat, the worthless piece of trash—was his boss? Was someone with unimpehensible power over him?