Chapter 3 - The Deep Rot
The penthouse office had always been my sanctuary, but walking into it now felt like stepping into a stranger's house. The minimalist, elegant decor I had chosen had been replaced by gaudy gold accents, oversized leather chairs, and ridiculous abstract paintings. Richard had turned my command center into a monument to his own ego.
I threw my bag onto the massive mahogany desk and turned to my Head of Security, Marcus, who had just stepped off the private elevator. He was one of the few people I still trusted.
"Is the lobby locked down?" I asked, booting up the master terminal.
"Airtight, Amelia," Marcus replied, his jaw tight with anger. "The police have been notified regarding the assault on you. Vanessa is currently being held in a conference room. Richard has locked himself in his secondary office. He's making frantic phone calls."
"Let him panic," I muttered, my fingers flying across the keyboard. "I want the company’s internal servers mirrored immediately. I need to see exactly how deep this rot goes."
For the next four hours, I didn't move from the desk. Marcus brought in a team of forensic accountants who had been on standby in the city, waiting for my signal. What we uncovered was worse than mere negligence. It was systemic, malicious theft.
Richard hadn't just mismanaged the resort; he had been bleeding it dry. There were dummy vendor accounts, inflated invoices for renovations that never happened, and millions of dollars funneled into offshore shell companies. And Vanessa? She had been given a "consulting" salary of two million dollars a year, using company funds to finance her lavish lifestyle, her diamonds, and her private flights.
"They were stripping the copper from the walls of the house I built," I said, my voice trembling not with sadness, but with a cold, terrifying rage.
"It gets worse," Marcus said, handing me a thick folder. "Look at the employee records. Richard fired all the senior staff you appointed. He replaced them with cronies. He cut benefits, slashed wages, and instituted a 'zero-tolerance' policy that essentially allowed him to fire anyone who asked too many questions."
May you like
I closed my eyes, a wave of guilt crashing over me. When my fiancé died in a tragic accident two years ago, I was shattered. I needed to escape to grieve. I trusted my family to hold down the fort. Instead, my grief had become their golden opportunity. They didn't just steal my money; they abused the people who had helped me build this company.
"Get Richard," I said, opening my eyes. The sadness was gone. Only the CEO remained. "Bring him to me."
