Chapter 4 - The Aftermath
By midnight, the forty-second-floor boardroom looked like a war zone of crumpled paper, empty coffee cups, and half-eaten sandwiches. But the balance sheets on the digital projector screen glowed with a healthy, beautiful green.
"That wraps up the restructuring of the logistics division," Sarah Lin announced, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She closed her laptop with a soft click and looked across the table at me. "I don't know how you managed to keep tabs on all of this while spending the last six months in Chicago caring for your aunt, but I am officially terrified of you, Rebecca."
I smiled faintly, pouring the last drop of cold black coffee from the carafe into my cup. "Necessity is a wonderful motivator, Sarah. When you spend seven years watching a man take credit for your intellect, you learn to keep meticulous backups. Marcus thought he erased my footprint from Sterling Tech when he changed the admin passwords last year. He didn't realize I wrote the original kernel code for the network architecture. I left myself a master backdoor."
Harrison Cole chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair with a glass of scotch. "A backdoor that Marcus was too arrogant to ever look for. He truly believed he was the smartest guy in every room he walked into."
"Narcissism is a blinding affliction," I replied, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. "It makes people confuse cruelty with strength. Marcus thought that by publicly humiliating me tonight, he was cementing his status as the alpha male of the tech world. He didn't realize he was just stepping onto a stage designed entirely for his own execution."
"Speaking of Marcus," Harrison said, his expression turning slightly amused. "Word is floating around social media. It appears your ex-husband’s grand public exit didn't go quite as smoothly as he planned."
He spun his tablet around and slid it across the table.
On the screen was a trending Twitter/X thread tagged `#SterlingTechGala` and `#CinderellaRevenge`. Someone in the ballroom had filmed the entire exchange—from Marcus pointing at me and telling security to throw me out, to Harrison Cole announcing that I was his successor, right down to the moment Marcus was dragged out of the building by federal-grade security guards while Cynthia sobbed behind him.
The comments were a bloodbath of public ridicule:
*@TechInsider_Dave: "Imagine cheating on your wife for six months, throwing her out of a charity gala, and then finding out she owns fifty-one percent of your company. Bro speedran corporate suicide in under 60 seconds."*
*@SiliconValley_Gossip: "Cynthia Vance crying in an Uber outside the grand plaza while her uncle gets escorted out by guys built like brick walls is the cinematic content I pay internet for. Give this woman an Oscar."*
*@QueenOfCode: "Rebecca walked in wearing velvet and left wearing the crown. Never underestimate a woman who lets you hang yourself with your own rope."*
I scrolled through the posts with mild detachment. There was no joy in the public shaming—only the quiet satisfaction of a ledger finally balanced after years of quiet gaslighting and emotional abuse.
"What’s our stock projection for tomorrow morning?" I asked, sliding the tablet back to Harrison.
"Pre-market trading opened twenty minutes ago," Harrison grinned, tapping his own phone. "Investors love stability, and they love bloodletting even more. Once the market realizes the dead weight of Marcus and Ronald Vance has been surgically removed and replaced by the actual architect of our core patents, stock is up fourteen percent."
"Good," I said, standing up and buttoning my emerald-green velvet blazer. "Send the revised operational briefs to my private office by 8:00 AM. I’ll be reviewing the international acquisitions from home."
"Home?" Harrison raised an eyebrow. "You mean the penthouse on Fifth Avenue?"
May you like
"No," I replied, picking up my leather briefcase. "Marcus’s old penthouse was too cluttered with his ego. I bought a brownstone in the West Village last month. Much better natural light. And absolutely no ghosts."
***
