Chapter 6
The corporate headquarters of Morrison Global Holdings occupied the top fifteen floors of the tallest glass skyscraper in the financial district.
When the limousine pulled up to the private basement entrance,
the entire executive security team was already lined up in two perfect rows,
standing at absolute attention.
The chief of security,
a retired military colonel who had never once looked me in the eye during my marriage to Brendan,
stepped forward to open my door,
his face a mask of utmost discipline and hidden anxiety.
"Good evening,
Chairwoman Morrison,"
he said,
his voice steady but carrying a distinct note of deference.
"The private elevator has been secured exclusively for your transport,
and the entire building has been placed under a level-four data lockdown as per Protocol Seven instructions."
"Thank you,
Colonel,"
I said,
stepping out of the car,
the warmth of Arthur’s coat still protecting me from the damp underground air.
"Has the board of directors fully assembled in the executive conference room?"
"Yes,
ma'am,"
he replied,
guiding me toward the sleek,
stainless steel elevator doors that required my unique biometric thumbprint to activate.
"Every member is present via secure video link,
and the senior legal counsels are standing by with the corporate charter modifications."
As the elevator shot upward toward the eighty-fifth floor,
the smooth acceleration made my stomach drop slightly,
reminding me of the physical toll the evening had taken on my body.
I looked at my reflection in the polished mirrored walls of the elevator cab;
my hair was still damp,
sticking to the sides of my face in messy strands,
and my dress was wrinkled and ruined from the dirty ice water Diane had thrown.
Yet,
despite the disheveled appearance,
I had never looked more formidable;
the expression in my eyes was no longer that of the quiet,
submissive wife who endured insults over Sunday dinner.
The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open,
revealing the massive,
panoramic glass lobby of the executive suite,
where the city lights stretched out below us like a sea of diamonds.
A dozen senior executives,
men and women who had spent years making millions of dollars off the decisions I quietly approved from my home office,
were waiting in the lobby,
holding digital tablets and thick legal binders.
The moment I stepped out,
the room fell into a dead,
respectful silence,
broken only by the soft click of my wet shoes against the Italian marble flooring.
"Cassidy,"
a voice called out from the front of the crowd.
It was Evelyn Vance,
the Chief Financial Officer,
a woman known throughout the financial world as an iron-willed negotiator who never showed emotion.
But tonight,
her eyes were wide with genuine astonishment as she looked at my damp clothing and the heavy security coat wrapped around me.
"Arthur called ahead and told us what happened at the estate,"
Evelyn said,
her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of professional outrage and deep personal shock.
"I have already instructed our forensic accounting division to freeze every single subsidiary expense account linked to Brendan and his mother."
"We discovered that Brendan had been utilizing a corporate hospitality fund to finance a luxury apartment downtown under Jessica Vale’s name,"
she continued,
handing me a printed summary sheet of the unauthorized expenditures.
"He classified the transactions as 'client entertainment and market expansion development' over the last fourteen months."
I glanced down at the numbers,
seeing the hundreds of thousands of dollars Brendan had stolen from my company to fund his infidelity and his mother's extravagant lifestyle.
"He thought he was stealing from a faceless corporate entity that would never notice a few missing drops in a massive bucket,"
I said,
handing the papers back to Evelyn without a single trace of surprise.
"He didn't realize that every single expense report over fifty thousand dollars crosses my desk for final audit confirmation."
"I allowed him to accumulate those fraudulent charges because I wanted a comprehensive,
irrefutable record of grand larceny that his family lawyers could never dispute in a court of law."
I walked toward the double glass doors of the grand boardroom,
the executives parting before me like the Red Sea.
"Evelyn,
have the legal team draft a formal criminal complaint for corporate fraud and embezzlement against Brendan Morrison,"
I commanded,
my hand resting on the handle of the boardroom door.
May you like
"We are not just firing him tonight;
we are ensuring he never wears anything but a prison jumpsuit for the next ten years of his life."
