Vivian’s smile cracked when I didn’t cry. ‘Sign it, Emma. Don’t make security drag you out.’ I turned slowly toward the crowd of executives gathered by the elevators. ‘Before I sign anything,’ I said, ‘I think the board should know something.’ I pulled out my phone and tapped twice. The lobby screens — the ones that usually played stock tickers — flickered to a document with the Hartwell crest. My father’s final will. Not the one Vivian had waved around at the reading. The real one, filed with the SEC and three law firms eighteen months before he died. Vivian’s face went white. ‘Section four,’ I read calmly. ‘Upon my death, sixty-seven percent of voting shares transfer to my daughter Emma Hartwell, contingent on her completing six years of operational training within the company — a milestone she reached last Tuesday.’ Gasps rippled through the lobby. Vivian stumbled down two steps. ‘That’s a forgery —’ ‘It’s notarized by Judge Patterson,’ I said. ‘Dad knew you’d try something. He told me to stay quiet, work hard, and wait.’ The head of the board, Mr. Chen, stepped forward, eyes wide. ‘Ms. Hartwell. We had no idea.’ ‘I know,’ I said softly. ‘Dad didn’t trust anyone who got too close to her.’ I turned back to Vivian, who was gripping the railing like it was the only thing holding her up. ‘The janitor’s daughter,’ I said, ‘is now your boss. My first executive decision is to accept your resignation — the one you so kindly prepared.’ I held up her letter, crossed out my name, and wrote in hers. Security, the same men she’d called to remove me, quietly walked toward her instead. As they escorted her past, I leaned in. ‘Charity case, remember? I learned everything I know from a man who started with nothing. Including how to spot a parasite.’ The elevator doors closed on her shaking reflection. I turned to the board and smiled for the first time in two weeks. ‘Shall we get to work?’
