Chapter 4: The Brass Plaque

Martin was so obsessed with looking up at the C-suite that he never bothered to read the small brass plaque at the bottom of the portrait.

To the true heir, C.T. — Protect the house.

The man in that portrait had taught me two things.

Never sign something angry.

And never reveal power until it had a lethal purpose.

Martin had never asked my maiden name.

At 10:03, my phone rang.

It was Nina, whispering frantically.

“Clara, he’s in the boardroom trying to force the buyout vote! Legal just opened your file to process the severance.”

Her voice shook.

“He’s throwing papers and yelling, ‘Clara Tennant — who is she?!’”

I smiled at the cardboard box in my lap, feeling the silver pen safe in my pocket.

“Tell him,” I said softly, “I’m the woman he needed written permission to fire.” Continue Reading ⬇️