Part 3
Nobody moved. The only sound was the drip of ice water landing off my elbow onto the hardwood.
“That’s impossible,” Diane said, but her voice had lost its edge. “The investor was anonymous. Everyone said it was some hedge fund out of Singapore—”
“That’s what you were told,” I said. “Because that’s what I wanted you to believe. I didn’t marry into this family for money, Diane. I already had more than this family ever will. I married Brendan because for about eight months, before I really knew him, I thought he saw me — not the company, not the shares, just me.”
Brendan’s jaw tightened. “So this whole time — the apartment, the car you drove, letting my mother treat you like—”
“Like garbage?” I finished. “Yes. I let it happen because I wanted to know what kind of family I was bringing a child into. Now I know.”
Harold Morrison’s name lit up my phone. I let it ring twice before answering, on speaker, so everyone could hear.
“Cassidy,” Harold said, his voice tight with barely controlled panic. “There’s been some kind of clerical error with the shareholder notice. Legal is saying — they’re saying you triggered a full ownership consolidation—”
“There’s no error, Harold.”
Silence.
“You have forty-eight hours,” I continued, “to decide whether Morrison Industries continues operating under its current executive leadership. Arthur will be sending formal documentation to everyone’s counsel by morning.”
I hung up.
Diane’s hands were shaking now, wine forgotten. “Cassidy — sweetheart — surely we can discuss this like family—”
“Family,” I repeated quietly, “poured ice water on a pregnant woman tonight and laughed.”
I picked up my coat from the back of the chair, still dripping, still calm.
“She Was Drenched, Then She Owned Everything
