Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3 — Madam Chairwoman
The front door opened.
Brendan turned his head toward the sound, irritated.
“Who the hell is here?”
Diane straightened.
“This is a private dinner.”
Footsteps crossed the marble foyer.
Measured.
Multiple.
Not servants.
Not guests.
The two security men near the doorway shifted uneasily as a serious older man in a charcoal suit entered the dining room carrying a leather folder.
Arthur Bell.
Behind him stood three members of Bellamy Global’s executive security team.
Not Brendan’s hired men.
Mine.
Arthur stopped beside my chair.
His eyes moved over my soaked hair, the ruined dress, the water dripping from the tablecloth, and the silver bucket on the sideboard.
For one brief second, professional calm cracked across his face.
Then he turned cold.
“Madam Chairwoman,” he said, “the board is waiting.”
The room went silent.
Completely silent.
Brendan’s smile died so quickly it was almost beautiful.
Diane blinked.
Jessica lowered her hand from her mouth.
One of the guests whispered, “Chairwoman?”
Arthur opened the leather folder and placed several documents beside my plate, carefully avoiding the spilled water.
“Protocol 7 has been activated. Emergency board notice has been delivered. Security footage from the dining room, foyer, and exterior entry has been preserved. All Morrison-linked access has been suspended pending review.”
Brendan stood.
“What did you just say?”
Arthur looked at him as if he were a typo in a contract.
“Mr. Morrison, your executive credentials have been frozen.”
Brendan laughed once.
Fake.
Thin.
“You don’t have authority to do that.”
“No,” I said softly.
Everyone looked at me.
Water still dripped from the ends of my hair.
I placed both hands on the table and slowly stood.
“I do.”
Diane’s face twisted.
“What is this?”
I looked at her.
“The end of your mistake.”
Arthur slid one document forward.
“Cassidy Bellamy owns fifty-one percent controlling interest of Bellamy Global Holdings through the Bellamy Family Trust. She has served as private chairwoman for four years.”
Jessica whispered, “No.”
Brendan stared at me like I had become a stranger in my own skin.
“You’re lying.”
I almost smiled.
That was the saddest part.
Not that he had humiliated me.
Not that he had replaced me.
But that even now, his first instinct was to believe I could not possibly be powerful.
Because powerful women did not look like me to him.
They did not sit quietly.
They did not wear simple dresses.
They did not cry alone in guest rooms.
They did not carry children while men laughed.
“I never lied,” I said. “You never asked.”
Arthur continued.
“As of this moment, Diane Morrison is removed from the Bellamy Foundation advisory committee. Brendan Morrison is suspended pending termination review. Harold Morrison’s consultancy contracts are frozen. All family discretionary benefits tied to Bellamy subsidiaries are under audit.”
Diane gripped the back of a chair.
“You can’t do this.”
Arthur looked at her.
“She already has.”
Brendan stepped toward me.
“Cassidy, stop this.”
One of my security men moved forward.
Brendan stopped.
The entire room saw it.
For the first time, he was not the man everyone feared.
He was only a man standing in a mansion paid for by confidence he no longer had.
I looked at him, soaked and steady.
“You laughed.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“When your mother dumped water over me, you laughed.”
He swallowed.
“Cassidy, I was shocked.”
“No,” I said. “You were entertained.”
That hurt him.
May you like
Good.
Truth should hurt when it arrives late.
