The Cold Betrayal
"You're making a scene over administrative details, Mara."
The next morning, the kitchen felt like a courtroom before the sentence is read. Gloria sat at the marble island, elegantly peeling a pear with a silver knife, while Daniel stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, refusing to look me in the eye.
I had placed the cloned signature page directly between his coffee cup and his tablet.
"This is fraud, Daniel," I said, my voice dangerously level. "You used my biometric override code to access the Blackwood trust line. You took a three-million-dollar advance using our penthouse as collateral."
Gloria didn't even look up from her fruit. "Don't be dramatic, dear. Daniel is the face of Vance Capital now. If he needs to reallocate capital to keep our international lines clearing, you should be thanking him for handling the burden. You're good with compliance logs, not the big picture."
"The big picture is that he’s stealing from my grandfather’s estate," I replied, stepping toward the counter.
Daniel finally turned around, his handsome face hardening into an expression of absolute contempt. "Your grandfather is dead, Mara. The board doesn't care about old sentiments; they care about polish and returns. You’ve become an inconvenience to this company's image."
Before I could reach my phone on the counter, Daniel moved with a sudden, vicious speed. He yanked the device from my hand and shoved me backward. My heel caught the edge of the kitchen rug, and I collapsed heavily onto the hardwood floor, a sharp pain exploding through my shoulder as it hit the base of the cabinetry.
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Gloria quietly set her knife down, her eyes completely empty of empathy. "Take a holiday, Mara. Let the people with brains run the firm."
They walked out, locking the private elevator behind them, leaving me alone on the floor with the realization that my loyalty had been treated as absolute obedience.
