Chapter 8 - Brenda’s Lesson
The dinner should have ended then.
Naomi later told Olivia that the investigators were seconds away from entering the room.
But Brenda understood that control was slipping from her.
And Brenda’s instinct, whenever she lost control, was to humiliate the person she blamed.
She stood and addressed the investors.
“You are witnessing the unfortunate collapse of someone we once considered family.”
Olivia remained seated.
Brenda continued.
“Olivia has experienced paranoia, professional instability, and unresolved grief. Connor and I attempted to protect her privacy.”
“By fabricating transfers?”
“By preventing her mistakes from becoming public.”
Olivia looked around the table.
Some investors were skeptical.
Others wanted to believe Brenda because believing her meant their money might still be safe.
Brenda saw the uncertainty and pressed harder.
“She has accused colleagues, threatened employees, and attempted to access confidential files after being suspended.”
“That’s not true,” Olivia said.
“Malik Owens would disagree.”
Olivia went still.
Brenda smiled faintly.
“What do you know about Malik?”
“Only that he became frightened after you involved him in your conspiracy.”
“Where is he?”
“I have no idea.”
The answer sounded rehearsed.
Connor watched Brenda with growing alarm.
He knew she was becoming reckless.
Olivia pushed her chair back.
“You are lying.”
Brenda stepped closer.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“You were invited here as a courtesy.”
“I was invited here to accept blame for your crimes.”
Brenda’s voice lowered.
“You mistake tolerance for weakness.”
“And you mistake expensive clothing for dignity.”
A glass clinked against a plate.
Connor whispered, “Brenda, leave it.”
She ignored him.
“Your father made the same mistake.”
Olivia’s pulse roared in her ears.
“What mistake?”
“Believing he could enter rooms where he did not belong and demand answers from people who had spent their lives building influence.”
“My father was better than everyone in this room.”
Harold did not appear offended.
Brenda did.
She leaned closer.
“Your father was a provincial accountant who believed morality made him important.”
“And you were afraid of him.”
Brenda’s nostrils flared.
Olivia saw the decision happen.
Brenda reached behind her and seized a bowl of salad from the table.
Vanessa rose.
“Brenda, don’t.”
But Brenda set the bowl in front of Olivia, grabbed the back of her head, and slammed her face downward.
Pain exploded across Olivia’s cheek.
The investors gasped.
Connor laughed.
Naomi would later say that his laughter became one of the most damaging pieces of evidence in the room.
Not because laughter was illegal.
Because it revealed the relationship between them.
Connor did not look surprised.
He looked entertained.
He had seen Brenda do things like this before.
Maybe not with salad.
But with power.
With fear.
With people.
“Maybe now you’ll learn your place,” Brenda said.
Olivia’s face remained in the broken bowl.
For a second, anger nearly erased the plan.
She imagined turning, striking Brenda, shouting every accusation she had carried for months.
Then she heard her father’s voice.
Do not confront Brenda alone.
Olivia slowly lifted her head.
Ranch dressing dripped from her red hair. Her cheek throbbed. A small cut inside her mouth filled her tongue with the metallic taste of blood.
Connor kept laughing.
She reached for her glass.
“To consequences,” she said.
The doors opened.
May you like
Naomi entered.
And everything changed.
