Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Slaughter
Monday morning arrived with the crisp, cold air of a new era.
I sat at the head of the massive obsidian table in the Sterling International boardroom on the 55th floor. I was no longer the mousy, quiet wife who wore sensible sweaters and kept her head down. I wore a tailored crimson power suit, my hair flawlessly styled, my makeup sharp enough to kill.
Next to me sat Arthur, my EVP of Legal, a shark of a man who had known my true identity since I founded the company a decade ago under my mother’s maiden name.
At exactly 9:00 AM, the boardroom doors flew open. Brendan burst in, panting, his tie askew, followed closely by two security guards who looked toward Marcus for approval. Marcus nodded, allowing Brendan to stay.
"Cassidy!" Brendan shouted, slamming his hands on the glass table. "My badge didn't work! My corporate accounts are drained! My bank says my personal funds are frozen pending an investigation into corporate embezzlement! What did you do?!"
I took a slow sip of my black coffee. I didn't offer him a seat.
"Good morning, Brendan. I see you decided to take the subway," I noted, eyeing his scuffed Italian leather shoes.
"Stop playing games!" he roared, his face red with fury. "You can't do this to me! I built this company!"
Arthur chuckled. It was a dry, cruel sound. "Mr. Morrison, please. The only thing you built was a staggering amount of debt on the corporate card, mostly spent on luxury hotels in Aspen with a woman who is not your wife."
Brendan swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Arthur and me. "That was... that was business networking."
"With Jessica? A twenty-two-year-old Instagram model?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Regardless, it's irrelevant now. We are here to finalize your termination."
"I am the Vice President! I sit on the board!" he shouted, looking at the other board members—twelve of the most ruthless business minds in the country.
"Actually," an older gentleman at the far end of the table spoke up. It was Richard, a man Brendan had spent years trying to impress. "You sit on a subsidiary advisory committee, Brendan. A committee that Ms. Sterling dissolved at 8:00 AM this morning."
Brendan staggered back as if he had been physically struck. "You... you all knew? All of you knew she was the owner?"
"We answer to the majority shareholder, Mr. Morrison," Richard replied coldly. "And frankly, your performance has been abysmal. Ms. Sterling kept you employed out of charity. A charity you evidently abused."
I stood up, resting my hands on the table. The baby kicked gently against my ribs, a tiny reminder of why I had to burn this toxic man's world to the ground.
"You called me a burden, Brendan. You let your mother pour filthy water on the mother of your child while you laughed. You thought I was trapped because I loved you," I said, my voice echoing in the silent room. "But I didn't stay because I was trapped. I stayed because I wanted to see if there was a shred of decency left in you as a father. There wasn't."
I pushed a manila folder across the table. It slid perfectly to a stop in front of him.
"Sign the divorce papers. Sign away your parental rights. In exchange, I will not press criminal charges for the two point four million dollars you embezzled from the subsidiary accounts."
Brendan stared at the folder like it was a loaded gun. "And if I don't?"
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"Then Arthur hands this file to the FBI, and your child’s first memory of you will be through the glass of a federal penitentiary," I said softly. "The choice is yours. You have sixty seconds."
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