“She Was Drenched, Then She Owned Everything

Part 2
The dining room, usually filled with the clink of expensive silverware and Diane’s performative laughter, went quiet in a way none of them had heard before.
Brendan’s phone buzzed first. Then Diane’s. Then, a moment later, the family patriarch’s — Harold Morrison, CEO of Morrison Industries, who’d been conspicuously absent from tonight’s cruelty but never absent from its benefits.
Diane glanced at her screen, confused. “Board meeting?” she muttered. “On a Sunday? Why would legal be—”
She stopped. Her wine glass hovered halfway to her lips.
“Notice of Ownership Restructuring,” she read aloud, her voice faltering. “Effective immediate transfer of voting shares. Pursuant to Founder’s Clause 7.1…”
Brendan snatched the phone from her hands. His face drained of color as he scrolled.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he whispered. “Founder’s Clause? We don’t have a founder. My great-grandfather started this company—”
“Actually,” I said, finally standing, water still dripping from my sleeves onto the Persian rug, “he didn’t. Not really. He ran it into the ground twice. It was rebuilt in 2019 by an anonymous investor who took eighty-one percent ownership in exchange for the bailout. You’ve been working for me for five years, Brendan. All of you have.”
Jessica’s manicured hand slowly lowered from her mouth.