Clearly he does. There’s no fear in his eyes as I stare him down. “Iamsorry, Mason,” he says again. And he at least tries to look sympathetic this time. “It’s not you. It’s business.”
“My business,” I remind him, through clenched teeth.
“I know how much you care about this company, Mason,” he continues. “But we’ll take good care of it. And who knows, maybe you can keep a position here. Not as CEO, obviously. But something less public.”
Hubris is a funny thing. Clearly, I’ve underestimated Daniel. Underestimated how much he must hate me. Funny, how that hate is what might save me, that him being here, needing to rub my face in it, is all the warning I need to remind these fuckers why I shouldn’t be messed with.
I pull my phone out and text the names to Sebastian.
Whitmore, Davidson, and Smith.
We’ll need three new board members to replace them before the end of the week. And remind Richards who the fuck he works for.
“Mr. Sterling,” I correct him, slipping my phone back into my pocket. I force myself to stay calm as I pull the laptop on my desk toward me, using the fingerprint access to turn it on.
“What?” Daniel asks, confused.
“My name,” I explain coldly. “Not Mason. It’s Mr. Sterling, to you.”
His smile twists into something uglier. “For now.”
A few keystrokes are all it takes to access the files I need. A failsafe, for just this sort of occasion. “Do you know what I hate about men like you, Daniel?” I ask conversationally.
He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to answer.
“You’re hypocrites,” I tell him. “You preach good family values and look down your nose at the way other people live. You think you’re virtuous, but men like you are always hiding the ugliest skeletons in your closet.”
His face twists. “I don’t know what you?—”
I turn the laptop screen to face him and press play.
The video has no sound. It doesn’t need it. The grainy footage says everything.
Color drains from Daniel’s face as he watches.
“Does your wife know you’re fucking her sister?” I ask. I glance at the screen, where he has her bent over a pew at his church. There’s nothing arousing about it. He looks like a plucked chicken, rutting into her. The best thing you can say for it is that it’s short, the whole thing lasting less than five minutes. “Or are you saving that sermon for next Sunday?”
He stammers. “This is…” He gestures at the screen, hands trembling. “This is a fake! AI-generated nonsense!”
I chuckle, the sound low and cold. “You and I both know that’s not true. And it’s not the only one I have. Would you like to see the rest?”
He’s shaking now. Scared. Searching the deepest cavities of his mind for any excuse that would get him out of this.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I close the laptop with a click. “You’re going to resign from the board. Tonight, effective immediately. And you’re going to get the fuck out of my city. Take your family, take your church, take whatever you need. But you’re gone by the end of the week. Or this video goes to your entire congregation, including your wife.”
“You wouldn’t!” Daniel protests.
“Oh, but I would,” I tell him, letting him see the truth on my face.
Happily.
Fuck, Iwantto do it. Men like Pastor Whitmore have had their tight grip on this city for far too long. I should have wiped him off the board years ago, instead of placating him with a position on the board.
Some problems you fix with bribery, and some with blackmail and threats. Daniel is a problem I should have just put a fucking bullet in.
It takes a moment for him to understand. For it to really sink in how completely fucked he is.
It’s almost beautiful to see it.
