Her hands moved when she talked about the safety systems, cutting through the air the way they had at the bar. She had no idea she was doing it. I remembered watching her do that last night, thinking I could watch her talk about this work forever.
Now I was her boss. And she knew exactly who I was.
“Thank you, Ms. Winters,” I said when she finished. “Impressive work.”
Her eyes met mine. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I look forward to discussing the project in more detail.” A slight emphasis on my name. A reminder that I’d withheld it from her last night.
Point taken.
The room emptied slowly. I noticed Richard’s gaze lingering on Charlie as she gathered her materials, something possessive in his eyes that set off an alarm in the back of my head. She shifted away from him without looking up—so quick, so practiced, I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so carefully.
She stopped at the door and turned, and what she said to me—You knew—wasn’t a question. I told her the truth. She told me dinner was off. Obviously.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound went through me like a blade.
When the room had cleared except for Mike, Richard, and myself, I turned to face the man whose company I’d just taken.
“The takeover will proceed as planned,” I said, my voice hardening. “Your payout will be transferred at noon. You’ll need to hand in your access badge and leave the premises immediately. All digital access will be revoked at that time.”
Richard’s cold mask slipped, revealing raw anger. “You have no idea what you’re doing, Pierce. This company?—”
“Is mine now,” I cut him off. “All of it.”
“You vindictive son-of-a-bitch.” He ground out, his teeth bared like an animal. “You always were a sore loser.”
“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” I slid my hands into my pockets to keep from throttling him. “You fucking killed a man, Richard. Maybe not with a weapon, but nonetheless you were responsible for his death.”
I stepped in closer, feeling Mike on my right, ready to back me up, as always.
“I will tell you now, again, what I told you that night. If I can’t get you in front of a jury, I will be the judge. No one takes what’s mine, no one hurts my friends. Tommy was my friend. Our friend. And his death is on your head.”
His lips were white, his eyes wide, and he vibrated with the anger he was attempting to hold in.
The satisfaction I felt in putting him in this position still didn’t compare to the loss, though.
“You have no options. You’re broke. The board has voted. It’s done. You just need to decide if you want to slink away poor or rich. And as per our contract, you will have nothing further to dowith this company. Your non-compete keeps you from starting another company in the same business area for three years.”
He stood, straightening his jacket with forced dignity. “This isn’t over.”
“It is for you.” I nodded to Mike, who slid a folder across the table. “Sign these release forms, and we’re done.”
Richard scrawled his signature, his hand shaking with suppressed rage. When he stood to leave, he paused at the door.
“You think you’re protecting her,” he said quietly. “But you don’t know Charlie Winters the way I do. She’ll burn through your resources and your patience, and when she’s used up everything you’re willing to give, she’ll move on to the next benefactor. Just like she did with me.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. Mike didn’t either. We just watched him walk out.
“Get security up here for Sterling’s escort out,” I said. Mike was already on it.
By seven p.m., the adrenaline had burned off and the suite felt like a cage.
The takeover was complete. The money had transferred. Richard Sterling had been escorted from the building carrying a single box, his access revoked, his parking space already reassigned. I’d spent the afternoon meeting department heads, reviewing financials, and laying the groundwork for the transition. Every objective had been met. Every box checked.
I should have felt victorious.
I poured a bourbon and pulled up my laptop, intending to review the operational reports Mike had compiled. Instead I opened Charlie’s personnel file for the third time today. I didn’t do this with other department leads. I noted that and kept scrolling.
Charlotte “Charlie” Winters. MIT graduate, three years. Ten years at HydroCore, the last three dedicated entirely toSEAS. No publications—Richard had kept her work proprietary, probably to prevent her from being poached. A few conference presentations, all highly technical. No social media presence worth mentioning.
