At 6:45 a.m., I park in the Skyline Vertex parking lot, in the visitor area. I enter the main lobby at 7:15 a.m., my hands freezing and my stomach in knots.
The hall is empty, shimmering in the morning light. And there, near the main bay window, is Rey.
He wears his grey uniform and slowly and methodically cleans the inside of the windows from floor to ceiling. He is exactly as always: invisible, discreet, simply part of the building.
He sees me. Our eyes meet. He doesn’t smile. He simply nods, barely perceptible. Then he turns back to the glass, leaving a perfect shine, without the slightest trace.
A silent acquiescence.
You came. Good.
At precisely 7:30 a.m., the main doors open with a whistling sound.
Jordan Price enters, not in the blouse from the video conference, but in a charcoal gray suit that resembles armor. She carries an elegant leather briefcase. She doesn’t look at me. She heads straight for the main security station.
The receptionist, Sarah, is settling in with her morning coffee.
« Good morning, » Jordan said clearly in the silent lobby. « Jordan Price, here for a 7:30 a.m. meeting with the representative of the principal shareholder. »
Sarah frowned, perplexed. « Excuse me… who? I don’t see… »
« I have an appointment, » Jordan repeats, sliding his business card across the marble slab. « With the representative. The name on the appointment is Mr. Elias Vance. »
A name I’ve never heard of in my life.
Sarah, taken aback, starts typing. « I… I don’t see Mr. Vance on the list of leaders. »
« He is not on the list of directors. He is on the list of shareholders. Please consult the appointment book for meeting room A. It was booked last night. »
Sarah’s eyes widened as she typed. She had found it.
« Oh. Oh, I see. Meeting Room A. I’ll have to call security, ma’am, to get you a pass for the elevator. »
« That won’t be necessary. My colleague has one. » Jordan turns around and, for the first time, looks me straight in the eye. « Aspen, please come with me. »
I am paralyzed.
Before I could even move, a new voice rang out in the hall.
« But what the hell is going on here? »
Evelyn Marsh just stepped out of the executive elevator, a thermos of coffee in hand. Marcus followed her, already on the phone, giving orders to someone. They must have received an automated notification informing them that a meeting was scheduled in the main conference room.
Evelyn’s gaze falls on me. Her face, which had been confused until then, transforms into pure, boundless rage.
« You, » she spits. « You have ten seconds to get out of this building before I have you arrested for trespassing. »
“She’s with me,” Jordan said calmly, standing in front of me. “Jordan Price, attorney at Price, Harding & Associates. I’m here for a scheduled meeting with the representative of the principal shareholder regarding your board’s hostile actions and the theft of intellectual property.”
Evelyn and Marcus both froze.
« We don’t know Jordan Price, » Marcus grumbled, putting his phone back in his pocket. « And we’re the board of directors. There was no theft. This is simply a disgruntled employee who was fired for gross misconduct. »
« This is the ’cause’ we came to discuss, » says Jordan, unperturbed.
Evelyn laughed, a cold, shrill laugh.
« This is absurd. You and the ambulance you chased have no business being here. This is a private building. Sarah, call security. Get them out. »
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Jordan, his voice still calm, but now carrying a completely different weight.
As if by magic, a long, impeccably elegant black car pulls up in front of the windows. It’s not a modern car. It’s a vintage car, a classic 1970s Bentley, perfectly restored, gleaming like a black pearl.
We’re all watching. Even Evelyn is momentarily distracted.
A uniformed driver exits from the driver’s side. He walks to the rear door, opens it, and stands at attention.
We are waiting.
Nobody leaves.
The hall is silent. After a long moment, the driver leans over, retrieves an old, stiff leather briefcase from the empty back seat, and closes the door. He then heads not towards us, but towards the side entrance of the hall.
He walks past the security post without stopping, his shoes clattering on the marble. He approaches Rey, who has just finished the last wicket.
Rey puts down his squeegee. He calmly wipes his hands with the cloth attached to his belt. The driver, his face impassive, hands him the briefcase.
Rey takes it. He doesn’t look at it. He simply holds it in his left hand, his grip firm.
The driver tilts his head slightly, in a perfect gesture, turns around and leaves the building.
I watch, my mouth dry, as Rey—the janitor, the old man, the ghost—turns around. With one hand, he pushes his broomstick; with the other, he holds a briefcase containing a million dollars. He walks past Evelyn and Marcus, who are stunned. He walks past Jordan Price. He heads toward the executives’ private elevator, the one that requires a special key.
He takes a key from his grey uniform pocket, inserts it, and the doors open. He pushes his trolley and briefcase inside. Just before the doors close, our eyes meet.
They are sharp, clear, and embody the crushing weight of command.
The doors close, and he disappears.
Evelyn and Marcus stare at the closed elevator, their faces expressing deep confusion.
Jordan Price smooths the front of her suit. She turns to me and whispers, so softly that I’m the only one who can hear her:
« Some masks will fall today. Stay calm and tell the truth. »
The doors of the executive elevator open onto the top floor. Jordan and I get out.
The atmosphere had completely changed. The hushed, solemn silence of the management wing had vanished, replaced by a frenetic, nervous energy. Evelyn and Marcus were already halfway down the corridor, heading at full speed towards meeting room A, the main conference room.
« It’s a disgrace. A security breach, » Evelyn hisses into her phone. « I want to know who authorized this booking. »
Marcus shoves his assistant, who’s trying to hand him a tablet. « Get a lawyer in there immediately. And call Caleb. And call Linda. I don’t know what this is, but we’re putting an end to this. Call Linda. »
My mother. I feel nauseous.
Jordan doesn’t slow down. She walks with a calm, steady pace, her briefcase in hand, as if she were going to a meeting she’s paid for. I follow her without flinching, my heart heavy and cold in my chest.
When we arrive in the meeting room, the company lawyer – the very same one who fired me – is already there, speaking in hushed tones to Caleb, who looks pale and sweaty. Evelyn enters with a purposeful stride and takes a seat at the end of the table.
« Very well, Ms. Price? » she said. « You forced an unauthorized meeting. You let this intruder into the building »—she pointed at me without looking— »you have sixty seconds to explain yourself before I have both of you escorted out by security. »
“That won’t be necessary,” Jordan said, placing his briefcase on the table and opening it. “We’re here to discuss the serious misconduct of this company’s executives and the systematic theft of my client’s intellectual property.”
« Your client? » Marcus sneered as he sat down. « Your client is a former employee who is currently under investigation for destruction of company property. »
At that precise moment, the door opened again. My mother, Linda, was rushed inside by Marcus’s assistant. She looked terrified, her eyes wide, glancing from Evelyn to Marcus before settling on top of me. Her face fell.
« Aspen. Oh my God. What have you done? »
« She didn’t do anything. Linda, sit down, » Evelyn ordered.
My mother, conditioned by twenty years of intimidation, immediately sat down on a chair against the wall, as far away from the table as possible.
Evelyn gives a tight, controlled smile. She has her audience. Her victim, her accuser, and her family are witnesses. She is in her element.
“Listen,” Evelyn said, clasping her hands on the table. “Ms. Price, I understand that you are—excuse my language—an opportunistic lawyer. You convinced my niece, in a moment of great emotional distress, to file a frivolous lawsuit. Let’s be clear about this so we don’t waste any more time.”
She nods to the company lawyer, who dims the lights and turns on the main projection screen. My « performance review » slides scroll across the screen: the forged emails, the fake event logs showing a cook crashing the system.
“Here’s the evidence,” Evelyn said, her voice feigning patience. “The evidence of Ms. Cook’s gross negligence, which cost this company hundreds of thousands of dollars. Out of love for her, we were prepared to settle this internally, to protect her. We offered her a generous severance package to spare her the embarrassment of a public trial. We were trying to be lenient, as a family.”
She turns her gaze towards me, her eyes like shards of ice.
« And she reacted by hiring you. That’s a profound, very profound betrayal. »
« A betrayal of whom exactly, Ms. Marsh? » Jordan Price’s voice interrupts the moralizing monologue.
She is standing, holding a small silver remote control.
« Before we talk about love and family, I also have a few little things I’d like to show you on screen, if you don’t mind. »
She approaches the podium and, without asking permission, plugs in her own laptop. The company lawyer starts to protest, but Jordan is too quick. The screen flickers, and my « evidence » is replaced by her desktop.
“Let’s start with the intellectual property theft,” Jordan says. “My client, the true designer of the Atlas platform, was informed that her work was being presented as someone else’s. For example, SinCorp’s licensing proposal.”
She clicks on a file.
This is my live, high-resolution screen recording. The video fills the room: my workstation, my desk, and the back of Caleb’s head. Silence reigns as we watch him delete my name from my computer and type his own. We see him attach the file. We see him send the email to Evelyn.
Caleb went from extremely pale to a sickly greenish white. He jumped up from his chair.
« That’s not true! » he stammered, looking anxiously at his mother. « It’s a draft, I was just… I was fixing the layout. It was a temporary name. »
« A temporary name? » Jordan repeated in a dangerously low voice. « You replaced his name with yours, clicked Save, and sent the document to the client. An interesting way of working. And one that fits perfectly with this. »
She clicks again. A Slack conversation appears.
Caleb: Create the whole module, I trust you, I’ll proofread it later.
Caleb: Hey, the server’s crashing, I don’t know why, can you fix it?
Caleb: Can you simplify the presentation? It’s a bit cluttered, thanks.
“So,” Jordan explains, “for ten months the vice president of innovation has been asking the insubordinate employee to do all his work for him.”
« That’s unacceptable, » retorted the company’s lawyer. « You obtained it illegally. »
« I assure you that’s not the case, » Jordan stated. « Now let’s move on to the charge of gross negligence. »
She clicks again. The screen displays exceptionally clear images from the security camera showing the server room door. The time is visible: 2:13 a.m. The massive figure wearing a Yankees cap comes into view. It’s Marcus Cole.
Evelyn jumps up.
« This is outrageous! It’s a deepfake! It’s defamation! Who authorized this? Who gave you access to our internal security system? » She’s screaming now, her mask of maternal grief completely gone. « It’s illegal surveillance! »
Jordan remains perfectly, terribly calm. She clicks one last time.
A document appears on the screen. It is a legal authorization form. It grants Price, Harding & Associates full and unrestricted access to all of Skyline Vertex’s digital and physical monitoring systems, all server logs, and all internal communications for the purpose of a comprehensive audit.
At the bottom is a digital signature. The name is blurred, masked. Only the signature block and the first initial, scribbled with an old-fashioned elegance, are visible.
R.
Marcus’s face freezes. He stares at the R and seems to shrink back in his chair. Evelyn’s rage turns to panicked confusion. She spins around abruptly, her eyes wide, and points a trembling finger at me.
« It’s you! » she screamed, her voice breaking. « You did it. You went to see him, didn’t you? After everything we’ve done for you, you ungrateful wretch… You betrayed us and you betrayed our family! »
I stand up. When my voice rises, it’s not that of a grateful niece. It’s cold. And it’s mine.
« I haven’t betrayed anyone, Evelyn, » I said, looking her in the eyes. « I simply showed the truth to the person who had the right to see it. »
« And there you have it, » Jordan Price continued, as if Evelyn hadn’t said anything, « the truth. »
She splits the screen. On the left, the falsified audit log my family used against me, showing Acook crashing the system. On the right, the real audit log, the one from my hidden earpiece.
The room observes in deathly silence the unfolding of the newspaper in real time:
Timestamp 2:14 AM – User: mcole – MANUAL_DATA_OVERRIDE – SYS_LOG_11A_ATLAS
Timestamp 2:15 AM – User: mcole – INSERT_CORRUPT_FILE_PACKET – ATLAS_KERNEL
Timestamp 2:16 AM – User: mcole – MANUAL_DATA_PURGE – USER_LOG_acook Timestamp
2:17 AM – User: mcole – CREATE_FALSE_LOG – USER_acook
Marcus didn’t just crash the system. He planted a bomb and then meticulously framed me for the explosion.
The company’s lawyer, who had been muttering « unacceptable, » fell silent. I saw him lean towards Marcus, his face pale with horror. He murmured a word, barely audible:
« Control. »
He controls the actions. He’s not just a figurehead.
The air is so heavy, so thick with fear and revelations, that I feel like I’m going to suffocate. Evelyn stares at the screen, gaping. Finally, silence, a relief. Marcus looks like he’s about to throw up. Caleb… is gone. An empty shell. My mother cries silently, her face buried in her hands.
This is it. Checkmate.
And then, at the height of the tension, the door to the main meeting room whistles open.
He pushes a grey plastic mop cart whose wheels squeak on the parquet floor. Behind him, in his drab grey janitor’s uniform, is Rey.
He doesn’t look at anyone. He simply pushes his trolley along the back wall towards the windows, as if he were there solely to empty the bins.
The spell is broken. Evelyn, seeing this as a target for her rage — a return to the reality she knows — explodes.
« What’s he doing here? » she yelled, pointing at him. She fumbled for the intercom on the podium. « Sarah! Sarah, who let this guy into a closed meeting? Call security! Get him out! Get him out now! »
Rey doesn’t stop. He doesn’t look at her. He continues pushing his trolley, with a slow and steady motion. He pushes it to the end of the table, right next to Evelyn’s chair. He stops. He bends down and, with one hand, lifts the heavy antique leather briefcase—the one from the Bentley—and places it on the mahogany table.
The impact is profound and definitive.
Silence falls once more in the room.
Rey rummages in the breast pocket of his cheap grey uniform. He pulls out a wallet. But not a driver’s license. He pulls out a magnetic card.
This is not your standard employee credit card. This is not your top-of-the-line executive credit card.
It is black. Plain black, with a single golden glint.
Evelyn, Marcus, and the lawyer all stare at the card as if it were a scorpion.
Rey leans over Evelyn’s shoulder, who doesn’t understand. He slides the card into the reader of the main console on the podium, the one that only the CEO can activate.
The system beeps. The projection screen, still displaying Marcus’s digital fingerprints, flickers and then goes black. A new screen appears.
WELCOME, PRIMARY OWNER. PLEASE AUTHENTICATE YOURSELF.
The room is like a void. Sound, movement, even thought, have been sucked out.
Rey — the concierge, the ghost — has just logged into the entire company with the highest access rights.
Slowly, deliberately, he raises his hand and unzips his gray uniform. He lets it slide off his shoulders, letting it fall around his waist. Underneath, he wears a simple dark gray button-down shirt.
He takes off his worn gray janitor’s cap and throws it onto the cart. His hair is silver, finer than the man’s in the portrait, but it’s the same. Then he takes off his calloused and stained work gloves, one finger after the other, and lets them fall to the ground.
The man who remains is thinner, older, and far more dangerous than the Rey we all knew.
This is Raymond Cole.
He fastens the clasp of his old leather briefcase. It opens with a small, discreet, and precious click. He doesn’t take out a laptop. Instead, he takes out a single thick, leather-bound document. He places it on the table in front of him: the company’s original articles of incorporation, the company charter.
He presses a key on the console. The « WELCOME, PRINCIPAL OWNER » screen disappears. It is replaced by a photograph: an old, yellowed newspaper article. A much younger man in an 80s suit, laughing, cutting the inaugural ribbon in front of this same building. The man in the portrait. The man standing at the head of the table.
The smile is the same. The eyes are the same. There is no doubt. There is no room for denial.
A muffled, almost strangled sound escapes from the chair against the wall. My mother, Linda. She rises on trembling legs, her hand outstretched.
« Dad. »
This is the first time I’ve heard her say that word. It’s a child’s voice, imbued with a pain so ancient that it’s terrifying.
My body is numb. I feel dizzy, detached, as if I were observing the scene from the ceiling. The concierge who spoke to me in the cellar, the man I pitied, the man I laughed with… it’s my grandfather.
Evelyn finally finds her voice. It’s a nervous, high-pitched laugh that breaks the tension.
« Dad, » she said, laughing softly, her hands trembling. « Dad, what is this? This is a joke, isn’t it? A very, very strange joke. You’re supposed to be in Zurich. You’re sick. Your doctor told you not to travel. »
Raymond looks at his hand resting on his arm, then at her. He doesn’t move. He simply stares at her, his gaze cold and impassive.
Evelyn’s hand falls back down. Her smile fades.
“I haven’t set foot in Zurich for six months,” he said. His voice was no longer Rey’s raspy timbre. It was clear, deep, imbued with a chilling authority. He sat down—in the armchair Evelyn had always claimed for herself, the one that sat at the head of the table.
« I falsified the treatment, » he said in a calm, natural voice, as if he were talking about the weather. « I falsified the doctors’ reports. I falsified the power of attorney that granted you discretionary authority to manage your case. »
He looks at Marcus.
« I completely fabricated the story that my health was too fragile to receive visitors. It was surprisingly easy. You all wanted to believe it. It made your lives so much simpler. »
He clasped his fingers together in a tent shape, looking around the table.
« I did it to see—to see what would happen to my house if the master disappeared and the children were left in charge. To see, when I was no longer a man of power but a man of no importance, how I would be treated. »
He explains it.
In recent months, he had asked an old friend, the owner of the maintenance company, to put together a file for him: that of a new employee, « Rey. » A man with no past, no family, who was simply looking for a quiet job. He had worked nights for two months before switching to day shifts.
“I hired Ms. Price’s firm,” he said, nodding toward Jordan. “He’s standing there, silent as a sentinel. I gave them access to everything. They’re the ones who analyzed the data: the cameras, the server logs, your private emails, your cousin’s…” He glanced at me. “…some rather revealing screen recordings.”
I am in shock. A burning sensation grips my chest. I wasn’t just a spectator. I participated in the experiment.
« You tested me, » I said in a choked, accusatory voice. « That cafe. The garage. The waiters’ room. You were testing me. »
Raymond’s piercing gaze fixed on mine. He did not look away. He did not apologize.
« Yes, » he said simply. « I’ve tested you all. »
He looks at Evelyn and Marcus.
“I tested the children who claimed to be devoted—those who sent me fruit baskets in Zurich while they were busy exploiting my assets and plotting to steal my business. I tested the runaway daughter,” he said, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly as it rested on my mother, “to see if, after all these years, she had found the strength to stand tall, or if she was still afraid. And yes, Aspen,” he said, turning fully toward me, “I tested you, too. The granddaughter I was never allowed to meet. The one I was told was ungrateful, hot-tempered, and opportunistic. The traitor’s daughter. I had to see it for myself.”
His voice turned icy again. He turned to Evelyn and Marcus, who were no longer trying to speak. They were simply trapped.
« You two, » he said in a low voice, « have played a very long and very patient game. You have played with my assets. You have conspired for years to relegate me to a purely honorary role so that you could plunder this company. You lied to my face. You lied to my lawyers. And you lied to your own sister. »
Then he looks me straight in the eyes, and his words fill the room.
« And the granddaughter you described to me as a good-for-nothing, an ingrate, was the only person in the entire building who brought a cup of hot coffee to a supposedly good-for-nothing old concierge. The only one who, not once, but twice, stood up to a bully without gaining anything. The only one, » her voice deepened, « who built something truly precious and refused to give in when you tried to steal it from her. »
Tears stream down my face. I hate them. They aren’t tears of sadness. They’re burning tears of rage and betrayal—that he put me through all this. That my whole life has been a lie. And beneath them, a feeling so new and terrifying that I can’t name it: the feeling of being, for the first time in my adult life, completely and powerfully defended.
Raymond’s gaze leaves me and rests on my mother, who is still standing near the wall, crying.
« Linda, » he said. His voice had changed. It wasn’t as harsh anymore. It was the voice of an old man. « I’ve been a fool. I’ve been a hard, ruthless man. I didn’t understand your choice. I didn’t understand the man you loved. I only understood loyalty to the company. »
He looks at Evelyn with sudden, burning contempt.
« And I let her turn my pride into a weapon. I let her tell me you hated me. I let her build a wall between us. I regret it. For the wasted time. »
My mother lets out a sob — a sob laden with a lifetime of suffering.
He lets the silence linger. Then he turns back to me. The iron is back.
« I don’t expect you to forgive me, Aspen, » he said. « I didn’t do this for forgiveness. I did this for the truth. I put you through an ordeal you didn’t deserve. You were deceived, robbed, and framed by your own family. You have every right to leave this room, take Mrs. Price, and drag us all into court until we’re ruined. »
He pauses, leaning forward.
“But I have to ask you this: today, I stand with you. I offer you the full support of this company, of my company. If I do, are you prepared to fight to the very end? Are you prepared to see the whole truth come out, even if it means dragging Cole’s name into a scandal that will be talked about for years to come?”
I stand there, trembling. My mother is crying. My aunt and uncle stare at me, defeated. My cousin looks like a ghost.
All my life, I have been the grateful niece, the one who had to keep quiet, be content with crumbs, and take the insults.
I look at Raymond Cole, my grandfather. The man who made my life a living hell — and the only one who ever gave me a sword.
I take a deep breath. The tears stop.
« I’ve spent my life fighting alone, » I said in a clear and confident voice. « I’ve had enough. If someone is finally willing to support me, I won’t back down. »
My words remain unspoken. A final and irrevocable declaration.
Raymond looks at me, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, as if a contract had just been concluded.
He diverts her attention. The emotional reunion, the confrontation… it’s over.
The execution will begin.
His gaze falls on the company’s lawyer, the man who had been whispering « unacceptable » just minutes before.
“Mr. Davies,” Raymond said in an icy voice. “You are an employee of Skyline Vertex. As the sole principal and majority shareholder of this company, I am informing you that your clients, Ms. Marsh and Mr. Cole, are no longer authorized to speak on behalf of this company. Their powers of attorney are therefore revoked with immediate effect. Is that clear, Mr. Davies?”
His face pale, the lawyer simply nodded. « Yes, Mr. Cole. Absolutely. »
« Good. Then explain to them the legal definitions of breach of fiduciary duty, corporate malfeasance, and conspiracy to commit fraud. You will find that the evidence provided by Ms. Price is exhaustive. »
Evelyn, who had been momentarily stunned, regained her voice – a low, venomous hiss.
« You can’t. The power of attorney—the documents we signed in Zurich—gives us full authority. You can’t simply revoke it. »
“Ms. Marsh,” said Jordan Price, stepping forward. “She’s no longer just my lawyer, she’s his. It seems you’re misinterpreting your role. You were never given power. You were given a management contract, a contract you’ve violated forty-seven times, and it’s all documented.”
Raymond opens the leather-bound charter that he took out of the briefcase.
« This document, » he said, « the one I signed forty years ago, stipulates that control of this company can never be transferred by proxy, but only by a direct and public vote of the sole shareholder, that is to say, myself, or by inheritance. You were, in reality, very well-paid employees. And from this day forward, you are suspended without pay. »
He slides a new bundle of prepared documents, taken from his briefcase, onto the table towards Marcus and Evelyn.
« You must return all company equipment: your access cards, laptops, and phones. You will be escorted out of the building. Ms. Price will oversee a thorough internal investigation, effective immediately. »
Jordan resumes the story, her voice cold and detached, as if she were reading a death sentence.
« Based on the evidence we have gathered, » she said, « we have more than enough grounds to refer the case to the federal prosecutor’s office. Wire fraud, securities fraud, conspiracy. In my opinion, it warrants a mandatory minimum sentence of twenty years. »
Marcus makes a muffled sound.
“However,” Jordan continued, “Mr. Cole is sentimental. He would like, if possible, for this to remain a family affair.”
She slides a second stack of documents after the first. They are resignation forms.
“You will resign from the board of directors with immediate effect. You will waive all your acquired stock option rights and surrender your shares as part of an amicable settlement. You will fully reimburse all commissions and bonuses received as a result of SinCorp’s fraudulent proposal, as well as all compensation received during the past 36 months. You will comply with this,” she said in a deeper voice, “and in return, Mr. Cole agrees not to file a lawsuit.”
It’s a complete and total annihilation.
Evelyn stares at the papers, her hands trembling. Then she laughs – a wild, shrill, broken laugh.
« You can’t! » she screamed, slamming her fist on the table. « You can’t do this to us! We’ve sacrificed everything for this company. I’ve given you my whole life. »
« You haven’t sacrificed anything, » Raymond said in a neutral voice, cutting short her hysteria. « You’ve sacrificed your integrity. You’ve sacrificed your sister. You’ve sacrificed my relationship with my own daughter. You haven’t made sacrifices for this company, Evelyn. You’ve sacrificed the morals of this company to collect your dividends. There’s a difference. »
Caleb, who had remained silent — like a ghost in a corner — suddenly lunges forward.
“It wasn’t me! It was them!” he pleads, looking at Raymond, his eyes wide with pathetic, desperate fear. “I was just obeying. I followed orders. It was her!” He points at me. “She confused me! She made me believe that… I never wanted to steal anything…”
Without even looking at it, Jordan taps on his laptop. A new window opens on the screen. It’s another conversation, a private one, between Caleb and a friend from university.
Caleb: Yeah, the old guy’s practically a vegetable in Switzerland.
Caleb: Mom and Marcus are letting me handle this new tech contract. The woman who put it together is my cousin. A real pain.
Caleb: She always thinks she’s better than everyone else.
Caleb: Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Once the contract is signed, my name will be on the patent, and she’ll be lucky if she even fixes my code. It’s the perfect opportunity.
Caleb’s words still echoed, perfectly revealing his character. He slumped back into his armchair, his face a picture of despair.
Ultimately, that’s what breaks my mother.
Linda Cook, who had been crying silently against the wall, stood up. She walked past me and stood in the middle of the room. She was no longer crying. Her face was white, her eyes blazing.
She looks at Evelyn, her sister.
“For thirty years,” Linda said in a low, trembling voice, filled with a newfound strength, “you called me a traitor. You told me that I was the one who abandoned this family. You called my daughter ungrateful and difficult. You brandished your forgiveness like a weapon, forcing me to beg for crumbs.”
She takes another step. Evelyn flinches.
« You’re the traitor, » Linda said loudly. « You were there, in that house, and you turned our father against me. You stole my daughter’s job. You stole my sister’s life. And you stole my father’s business. You’re the rotten one, not me. You. »
That’s the bravest act I’ve ever seen her perform.
Raymond observes the scene, his face frozen by profound sadness and, perhaps, a touch of pride. He lets the silence settle. Then he taps the podium.
« Mr. Davies, please escort Mrs. Marsh and Mr. Cole to their offices to collect their belongings. They will be under surveillance. Mrs. Price, you will accompany them. Caleb »—he glances at his grandson— »will wait here. We have matters to discuss privately. »
The lawyer, who now seems content to simply obey orders, calls the roll. Evelyn and Marcus, defeated and silent, are asked to stand.
As Evelyn passed by, our eyes met. They were neither sad nor apologetic. They were filled with pure, boundless hatred.
As they leave, Raymond turns to his assistant, who was waiting outside.
« Please schedule a general company meeting, bringing together all staff, this afternoon at 3:00 PM. »
« Sir? » asked the assistant, perplexed.
« I’m going to address the employees. They’ve been raised for too long on a culture of family and discretion. They’re about to discover something new: the truth. I will no longer allow my company to be run by rumors the way they have been. »
I think about the gossip, the whispers. I think about the young colleagues in the break room, the members of my team who are just trying to do their jobs, those who have nothing to do with it.
« And the company? » I asked, the words coming out before I could catch them.
Raymond turns to me. « So? »
« It’s going to be chaos, » I said. « The Series C funding is canceled. The deal with SinCorp is canceled. The CEO and the CFO are gone. You’re going to cause panic. Good people, innocent people, are going to lose their jobs. This isn’t just a punishment. It’s the total destruction of the company. »
Raymond looks at me for a long time, with a scrutinizing gaze. He almost smiles.
« I put you to the test, » he said, « to see which side of the family you really came from. If you were like me, ready to burn the whole house down to kill the rats, or if you were like your mother, always afraid of hurting someone, even when they deserve it. »
He nods his head, a look of strange and sad respect on his face.
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