Chapter 7 - THE GALA'S GHOSTS
The media frenzy reached a boiling point by Wednesday. Gregory had gone on a premier financial news network, playing the victim. He looked polished, remorseful, and entirely convincing. He spun a narrative that he was ousted because he tried to stop me from ruining the company with erratic decisions.
Worse, Diane had found her way to a daytime talk show. Dressed in understated, sympathetic beige, she wept on national television, claiming I was a vindictive monster who had traumatized her family simply because of a minor misunderstanding at a charity event.
"She brought her child to an adult function just to cause a scene," Diane cried to the sympathetic host. "And when I politely pointed out the danger, she destroyed my husband’s career."
I watched the broadcast from my office, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. Bringing Zoey into it crossed a line.
"Do we issue a press release?" Marcus asked, watching my expression carefully.
"No," I said, turning off the television. "Never complain, never explain. We let them dig their own graves. Are all the preparations for tomorrow's shareholder meeting complete?"
"Yes. The ballroom at the Ritz has been booked, ironically."
"Good. The scene of the crime." I smiled tightly. "I want full security. No one gets in without top-tier clearance. Gregory and his Vanguard cronies will be there. They think they have enough proxy votes to force a motion of no confidence against me."
That evening, I went home early. I spent hours building a massive Lego castle with Zoey on the living room floor. Her innocent laughter was a balm to my frayed nerves.
"Mommy, are you fighting dragons at work?" she asked, placing a little plastic knight on top of a tower.
I paused, looking at her bright, trusting eyes. "Something like that, baby. But don't worry. Mommy always wins."
"Because you're the queen?"
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"Because I own the castle," I corrected gently, kissing her forehead.
Tomorrow, I was going to burn Gregory's siege engines to the ground.
