Chapter 5 - The Counter-Attack
Before Richard could confess, the massive mahogany doors to my office swung open. Vanessa barged in, flanked by three men in expensive gray suits. Lawyers.
"Get up, Richard!" Vanessa snapped, her face flushed with fury. She had recovered from her lobby panic and was now running entirely on spite. "Stop groveling to this runaway brat."
Richard scrambled to his feet, hiding behind his wife like a frightened child.
"You have no right to hold us here against our will, Amelia," Vanessa sneered, crossing her arms. "My lawyers have already contacted the press. Do you know what the headline is going to be? Erratic Founder Returns From Mental Breakdown, Assaults Family. We are spinning this, Amelia. We will say you are unfit to lead."
I couldn't help it. I laughed. A genuine, dark laugh that echoed off the glass walls of the office.
"You're going to spin a video of you putting a chain around the neck of a supposed homeless woman?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"My team is already having those videos scrubbed from the internet," Vanessa said proudly. "We have the money to bury anyone who posted it. We will frame you as hysterical. The board will vote you out by Monday. You don't own 100% of this company, Amelia. You only own 45%. Richard and I control enough of the board to have you removed on medical grounds."
She was right about the shares. During our massive expansion three years ago, I had to take the company public. I retained a 45% controlling interest, but if the board united against me, they could force me out.
"Is that so?" I said, sitting back down in my chair, steepled my fingers.
"It's over, Amelia," the lead lawyer said smoothly. "We recommend you take a generous severance package and return to your... vacation. If you fight this, my clients will destroy your reputation."
I looked at the lawyer, then at Vanessa, and finally at Richard. They actually thought they had won. They thought they could use my grief as a weapon against me.
I reached out and pressed a button on my intercom. "Marcus? Go ahead and release the video to the major networks. Uncut. From five different angles."
Vanessa's face fell. "What? You can't! We confiscated the phones!"
"You confiscated the guests' phones," I corrected her. "You forgot about the 4K security cameras I had installed in the chandeliers before I left. Cameras that upload directly to a private, encrypted cloud server that only I have access to."
I turned the massive flat-screen TV on the wall behind me. The news was already breaking. There was Vanessa, in high definition, dragging me across the floor like a dog. The anchor's voice over the footage was dripping with outrage.
May you like
Vanessa let out a strangled shriek.
"You want a war for public opinion?" I asked, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Congratulations, Vanessa. You just became the most hated woman in America."
