Chapter 2 - THE COLD ARCHITECT OF POWER
I arrived home,
to my quiet penthouse,
a place of glass and stone,
that overlooked the harbor.
I carried Mia to her bed,
tucking her in,
and kissing her forehead,
promising her silently,
that tomorrow would be different.
Then,
I went to my study.
I didn't turn on the main lights,
preferring the glow,
of three computer monitors,
that displayed the inner workings,
of Hart Global.
I spent the next four hours,
digging through reports,
that I usually skimmed.
I looked at the expense accounts,
the travel logs,
and the corporate gala budgets.
I saw the patterns,
of excess,
and the rising costs,
associated with the "First Lady,"
of the company.
Vivian Blackwell had been using,
corporate funds,
for personal stylists,
private jets,
and extravagant parties,
that had nothing to do,
with business.
Robert had been burying these costs,
under "Marketing and Outreach."
He thought I wasn't looking.
He thought that because I was quiet,
I was blind.
I felt a surge of cold fury,
as I realized how much,
they had taken advantage,
of my trust.
I called my lead investigator,
at two in the morning.
"Evelyn?"
his voice was raspy,
with sleep.
"I need the full file,
on the Blackwells' offshore interests,"
I said,
ignoring the pleasantries.
"And I need it,
on my desk,
by six."
"Is there a problem?"
he asked,
fully awake now.
"There is a cancer,
in my company,"
I replied,
"and I am performing,
the surgery,
tomorrow."
I hung up,
and poured myself a glass,
of water,
standing by the window.
The city below,
was starting to wake up,
with the early morning delivery trucks,
and the street sweepers.
The sun was a faint,
grey bruise,
on the horizon.
I thought about the gala again.
I thought about the way,
the other executives,
had smirked.
They were all part of it.
They had created a club,
where they felt untouchable.
They forgot that the only reason,
they had those glasses,
of expensive champagne,
was because I allowed it.
I went to my closet,
and pulled out a suit,
I hadn't worn in a year.
It was sharp,
charcoal grey,
and perfectly tailored.
It wasn't a "simple black dress."
It was armor.
I put on my watch,
a piece of engineering,
that cost more,
than Vivian's car.
I didn't wear it to show off.
I wore it to remind myself,
of the value of time.
And Robert Blackwell's time,
was running out.
By five AM,
the documents began to arrive,
via encrypted email.
Page after page,
of evidence.
Robert had been planning,
a buy-back of shares,
trying to dilute my majority,
without me noticing.
He was trying to steal,
the company from under me.
The humiliation at the gala,
wasn't just an accident.
It was a symptom,
of their arrogance.
They truly believed,
I was no longer relevant.
They thought I was just,
a mother,
living off a trust fund.
I printed the documents,
the sound of the printer,
rhythmic and steady,
like a drumbeat,
marching toward war.
I looked at the guest list,
of the gala,
one more time.
Every person who laughed,
every person who looked away,
was on my list.
I checked my reflection,
in the mirror.
My eyes were tired,
but they were hard.
The "waitress,"
May you like
was ready to serve,
the final bill.
