I never told my ex-husband or his wealthy family that I was the secret owner of the multi-billion dollar company where they all worked. To them, I was just the “poor, pregnant burden” they tolerated out of obligation.
“Oops,” Diane said with a half-smile that made it clear there had been no accident. The near-freezing water hit hard enough that my baby kicked inside me, sharp and sudden.
“Try to see the positive,” she added, lifting her wineglass. “Now you actually look presentable.”
Brendan laughed again. Jessica glanced down at my soaked shoes and said lightly, “Someone bring her an old towel. We don’t want that smell on the expensive linen.”
Dirty water ran from the hem of my dress onto the Persian rug beneath the table. I recognized it immediately. Three years earlier, I had personally approved that rug in the renovation budget for the company’s corporate headquarters.
They had no idea.
I drew one slow breath, not for them, but for my daughter. My fingers were cold enough to shake when I unlocked my phone, but my decision wasn’t.
Jessica leaned toward Brendan. “Who is she calling? A charity? It’s Sunday, honey.”
Diane poured herself more wine. “Brendan, give her twenty dollars for a cab and make her disappear.”
I said nothing. I opened the contact saved as “Arthur – EVP Legal” and called.
He answered on the first ring.
“Cassidy?” His voice changed immediately. “Are you alright?”
I looked directly at Brendan. He was still wearing that amused expression, like this was another story he would tell later about his embarrassing ex-wife.
“No,” I said. “Execute Protocol 7. Now.”
Arthur went quiet for a moment.
He knew exactly what I had just ordered.
“Cassidy… if I activate it,” he said carefully, “the Morrisons could lose everything.”
I set my wet hand against the edge of the glass table. “They already lost it. Make it effective.”
Brendan’s brow tightened. “Protocol 7? What the hell is that? Another one of your dramas?”
I held his gaze while water continued dripping from my hair onto the spotless floor. Diane took another sip. Jessica looked bored.
Then brakes sounded outside.
Footsteps crossed the entryway.
The front door opened.
A familiar corporate voice carried into the dining room and pronounced my real name. Brendan’s laughter stopped instantly.
Then the head of security stepped through the doorway and came straight toward me.
The security chief drew out a sealed envelope and set it in the wet space between Brendan and me. Then he told Brendan that Protocol 7 had already produced its first consequence.
