Chapter 4 - JANG CHIN TONG HAD BUILT A COMPANY INSIDE THE COMPANY
The first week was ugly.
Not because Jang screamed.
She became remarkably quiet once authority stopped flowing through informal channels.
The ugly part was what employees began saying once they believed someone might listen.
I created an independent reporting channel.
Outside employment counsel.
Anonymous submissions.
No reports routed through Shiaoza.
No reports routed through me if they involved my husband.
Seventy-three submissions arrived in four days.
Not all about Jang.
That mattered.
Some were complaints about managers.
Some petty.
Some legitimate.
But twenty-one directly named her.
Patterns:
Employees denied access to executive-floor meetings unless they “cleared” requests with Jang.
Candidates blocked because she considered them “not polished enough.”
Junior women criticized for clothing while favored employees received exceptions.
One analyst transferred after Jang told her:
“President Shiao prefers people who understand loyalty.”
A male director claimed Jang threatened to remove him from Shiaoza’s calendar after he refused to use a vendor she recommended.
That vendor:
TCT Executive Services.
Owned by Jang’s cousin.
Problem.
Payments:
$860,000 over three years.
Services included event logistics, corporate travel coordination, hospitality, translation, and executive gifting.
Were the services fake?
No.
External review found many were real.
Were prices sometimes above market?
Yes.
Were relationships disclosed?
Not adequately.
Who approved vendor access?
Shiaoza’s office.
Who signed the original authorization?
Shiaoza.
I confronted him that night.
He looked exhausted.
“I knew it was her cousin.”
“And?”
“He gave good service.”
“Did procurement know the relationship?”
“I assumed.”
“No.”
He went silent.
“Did you check?”
“No.”
There.
Again.
He was not masterminding a corrupt enterprise.
He was worse in a less cinematic way.
He stopped asking questions around someone he trusted.
Then finance found the retention loan.
$180,000.
Properly recorded.
But policy required committee review for nonexecutive employees above $50,000.
No committee approval existed.
Shiaoza had authorized it under the wrong category.
Why?
“Because she needed the apartment quickly.”
I stared.
“How quickly?”
“Her landlord was selling.”
“That is not a corporate emergency.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked down.
Then HR found something that made my anger colder.
Jang had vetoed a promotion for the woman who whispered to me beside the elevator.
Her name was Nora Lim.
Eight years at Meridian.
Senior systems analyst.
Excellent reviews.
Promotion recommendation twice.
Both times delayed after “executive office concerns.”
No written explanation.
When asked, Nora said:
“I once told Secretary Jang she couldn’t demand weekend work without manager approval.”
After that?
Her career stalled.
Could we prove retaliation?
Not yet.
Enough for investigation.
Then a former HR business partner came forward.
She had complained two years earlier.
Why did she leave?
“President Shiao told me Jang was sensitive and asked me to handle her gently.”
My husband remembered.
He defended himself.
“I didn’t tell HR to ignore complaints.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You told them the person they were investigating needed special treatment because you cared about her.”
Silence.
That is how systems bend.
Rarely with one dramatic command.
More often through knowing looks.
Informal requests.
Special exceptions.
Everybody understands.
Nobody writes it down.
Then came a more personal discovery.
Expense review identified dozens of gifts purchased by Shiaoza over five years.
Some for clients.
Some family.
Some staff.
Among Jang’s gifts:
Watch.
Handbags.
Jewelry.
A resort stay.
Designer coat.
Private medical bill.
I stared at that one.
$23,400.
“Medical bill?”
Shiaoza looked ashamed.
“Her father was ill.”
“Why did you pay?”
“She didn’t have enough.”
“Personal account?”
“Yes.”
Legally his money.
Maritally?
Not so simple.
Emotionally?
Very simple.
I asked:
“If my male executive assistant bought me jewelry, paid my family’s hospital bills, arranged a housing loan, called me a pet name, and let employees believe he controlled access to me—what would you call that?”
Shiaoza said nothing.
I continued:
“Would you believe me if I said we never slept together?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Long silence.
“No.”
There it was.
Then he whispered:
“I never cheated.”
I believed him.
But I had finally learned something marriage counselors probably explain every day:
Sex is not the only way to create betrayal.
He had built intimacy elsewhere.
Decision by decision.
Favor by favor.
Boundary by boundary.
May you like
Then come home and called it work.
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