My phone rang again.
Former Mother-in-Law.
I almost declined, but curiosity won.
I answered and held it away from my ear.
“How could you do this?” Cynthia shrieked. “After everything this family has done for you—”
I brought the phone back. “Everything your family has done for me?”
“You ungrateful little—”
“Let me help your memory,” I said softly. “I restructured your son’s company twice. I paid off your husband’s gambling debt. I kept the tax authorities from tearing through your family in front of the press. I funded your surgeries, your vacations, and the house renovations you told people Harrison bought for you.”
She went quiet.
Then, bitterly, “A wife is supposed to support her husband.”
“I did,” I said. “That was your mistake. You assumed I would do it forever.”
I hung up.
Julian raised his coffee cup in salute.
The market close bell was still over an hour away, but Oasis had begun to die in public. Every financial site in the city had picked up the story. Anonymous investor revealed. CEO blindsided. Merger in jeopardy. Internal debt crisis exposed.
And still my phone kept buzzing.
Harrison. Mia. Cynthia. Harrison again.
Then Damien.
Still on for eight?
I looked at the message for a moment, then typed back:
Wear black. I’m attending a funeral.
Julian nearly choked when I showed him.
“Tell me you’re serious.”
“Completely.”
By 4:12 p.m., Oasis stock had dropped fifty-eight percent.
By 4:40, two banks had formally demanded immediate review of major secured assets.
By 5:03, Harrison finally stopped calling.
That was when I knew the real fear had set in.
Men like him only yelled while they still believed the world might bend.
Silence meant reality had arrived.
I left headquarters just after six.
The city was washed in amber dusk, traffic glinting below in slow-moving ribbons of red and white. Nina walked with me to the private garage.
“Your car is ready,” she said. “Also, one more thing.”
She handed me a tablet.
The screen showed the front entrance of the estate Harrison had insisted on calling Cole Manor even though I’d paid for most of it through layered trust distributions he’d never bothered to trace. A line of black SUVs had pulled into the circular drive. Men in dark coats were stepping out, carrying folders and hard cases.
Bank representatives.
Asset auditors.
Security enforcement.
I smiled.
“What timing.”