Chapter 6 - The Boardroom ReckoningThe executive boardroom on the thirtieth floor of the Larkmore Grand was designed to intimidate. A massive, twenty-seat table made of polished Brazilian walnut dominated the center of the room, surrounded by leather high-backed chairs.
When the double doors opened, twelve high-ranking corporate executives—men and women in expensive designer suits—were already seated, whispering anxiously among themselves.
The rumors had spread like wildfire through the corporate network: the wedding was canceled, Callum and Clara Varden had been stripped of their titles and allowances, and Rowena Varden had returned to active management with a vengeance.
The heavy oak doors swung open wide.
Marcus Vance wheeled Rowena into the room, while Thea walked right beside her, carrying a sleek digital tablet and a leather-bound portfolio.
The board members instantly fell dead silent. Every eye darted toward Rowena—and then, with a flicker of confusion and disdain, toward the young woman standing beside her in a service-turned-executive blazer.
Clara Varden, who had somehow managed to slip into the building despite her ban, stood up from a chair near the back of the room, her face flushed with righteous fury.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Clara demanded, marching toward the head of the table. “Rowena, have you completely lost your mind? Bringing a common waitress into an executive board meeting? This is a private corporate matter!”
Rowena didn't even look at her. She smoothly rolled her chair to the head of the table, locking her hands over the armrests.
“Marcus, escort Clara out of the building,” Rowena said quietly.
“You can’t do this!” Clara shrieked as Marcus stepped forward, gently but firmly grabbing her by the elbow. “I am a Varden! I helped build this company!”
“You inherited a last name and spent thirty years treating the people who actually built this company like dirt,” Rowena replied coldly. “Get her out of my sight.”
As Marcus steered a screaming Clara out of the boardroom and slammed the heavy doors shut behind them, the remaining twelve executives sat frozen in terror.
Rowena turned her gaze slowly around the table, letting the silence stretch until every person in the room squirmed in their seats.
“Good morning,” Rowena began, her voice carrying an icy, commanding weight. “Some of you have been wondering if my abrupt return to active management is temporary. Let me assure you: it is permanent.”
She gestured toward Thea.
“This is Thea Tierney, my new Chief of Staff. Effective immediately, any department head, manager, or executive who attempts to undermine her authority, skim employee wages, or treat our frontline staff with disrespect will be fired on the spot and handed over to federal prosecutors.”
A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair—Harrison Cole, the Chief Financial Officer—cleared his throat nervously. “With all due respect, Mrs. Varden... bringing in someone with zero corporate experience to oversee executive operations is... unconventional. What qualifications does Miss Tierney possess?”
Thea didn't flinch. She stepped forward, placing her tablet on the center of the walnut table and tapping the screen. A large digital projection flickered to life on the wall behind them, displaying three years of financial spreadsheets.
“My qualifications, Mr. Cole,” Thea said, her voice ringing out crystal clear, “include three years of watching banquet managers systematically drain employee tip pools while upper management looked the other way. They include knowing every hidden loophole in your payroll distribution logs. And, most importantly, they include knowing the exact difference between honest work and corporate theft.”
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Harrison’s face drained of color as the projection displayed his own signature attached to the embezzled tip pool transfers.
Rowena smiled faintly, leaning back in her chair. “Shall we continue the audit, Mr. Cole, or would you like to pack your things now?”
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