Chapter 3 - THE GATHERING STORM
The lobby of Hart Global,
was a cathedral of glass,
and polished steel.
When I walked through,
the front doors,
at six-thirty AM,
the security guards,
straightened their ties.
They knew me.
They didn't care about my dress.
They knew whose name,
was on the deed.
"Good morning,
Ms. Hart,"
the head of security said,
his voice full of respect.
"Block the executive elevators,
after seven,"
I told him.
"No one leaves,
the thirty-fifth floor,
without my permission."
"Understood,"
he replied,
not asking a single question.
I took the private lift,
straight to the top.
The boardroom was silent,
the long mahogany table,
shining under the recessed lights.
I sat at the head,
of the table,
the power seat,
that Robert usually occupied.
Slowly,
one by one,
the board members arrived.
They looked confused,
haggard,
and anxious.
They whispered among themselves,
wondering why the majority owner,
had called them,
at this ungodly hour.
Then,
Robert Blackwell walked in.
He looked like he hadn't slept,
his suit was slightly wrinkled,
and his eyes were bloodshot.
He froze,
when he saw me sitting,
in his chair.
"Evelyn,"
he stammered,
trying to regain his footing.
"This is...
unexpected."
"Sit down,
Robert,"
I said,
my voice a low,
dangerous hum.
"Where is your wife?"
"My wife?"
he asked,
blinking.
"Why would Vivian be here?"
"Because she had so much to say,
last night,"
I replied.
"I thought she might want,
to finish the conversation."
The door opened again,
and Vivian entered,
looking confused,
and annoyed.
She was dressed in a designer,
morning suit,
her hair perfectly coiffed.
She saw me,
and her face twisted,
in a sneer.
"Robert,
what is this?"
she demanded.
"Why is this woman,
sitting in your chair?"
"Vivian,
shut up,"
Robert hissed,
his face turning white.
"Don't tell me to shut up,"
she snapped,
turning her gaze to me.
"I told you last night,
this is an executive environment."
"Security!"
she called out,
looking toward the door.
"Please remove this person,
immediately."
Nobody moved.
The board members,
looked at their shoes.
The silence in the room,
was suffocating.
I stood up slowly,
placing my hands flat,
on the table.
"Vivian,"
I said,
"you told me to use,
the service entrance."
"You told me,
that I didn't belong,
in my own celebration."
Vivian laughed,
a high,
nervous sound.
"Your celebration?"
"Robert,
tell her she's delusional."
Robert didn't speak.
He couldn't speak.
He was staring at the folder,
in front of me,
which had the logo,
of his private offshore bank,
on the cover.
"I own sixty-two percent,
of this corporation,"
I said,
my voice echoing,
in the large room.
"I am the foundation,
the walls,
and the ceiling,
of everything you see."
"And you,"
I looked at Vivian,
"are a guest,
May you like
who has overstayed,
her welcome."
