Page 69 of Her Sloth

Whitney-Morgan accused of Embezzlement, Insider Trading, and using loans for illegal actions

My phone rings.

“It’s happening,” I say with a wide grin as I see the number of the Bank’s chairman on my display. “Let the games begin.”

18

AUDREY

PLAYLIST: WHATEVER IT TAKES – IMAGINE DRAGONS

“You’re all fired, effective immediately,” I say without looking at any of the suits sitting around the table in the glass cage of Whitney-Morgan tower.

Only today, I’m not sitting here with my tail between my legs, the shackled and muzzled dog in a cage. No. Today I sit here with purpose. Because I have a plan. We have a plan. A plan that will go down as the biggest coup in history.

It’s rebellion.

It’s breaking free.

It’s the most reckless I have done, with a chance of me landing in some hellhole prison, and the thought of it is actually appealing to me. Yes, it’s another cage. But it’s a cage no one from the outside can reach me in.

“She’s insane!” says one of the suits, gesturing widely as he gets up.

“You all will receive a very generous severance pay,” I say to the others, ignoring him on purpose. “Feel free to attempt legal action, but we all know what happened in the past two weeks, and let’s be honest, you all knew. You were in on all of it, and we need some action that looks like we’re doing something. So, walk away before I have you investigated regarding your involvement.”

It takes all my acting skills to survive this meeting, but right now, I’m not myself. I’m corporate Jane, pretending to be the head of a multinational conglomerate.

None of them says anything anymore. The media has been tearing the bank apart in ways I didn’t think possible. We are being investigated by the City of New York and the FBI, which I find immensely satisfying.

I lean back in my chair, my hands in a wide pyramid on the desk for more authority, and look self-sufficiently at them.

“There’s the door,” I say and nod to it.

I stare them down in arrogance as they leave.

One bends down to me as he passes me, and whispers darkly, “You are so done.”

A grin appears on my face, but I say nothing. It’s what works best with men like him. I also know that I have the upper hand. Ahmed, who happened to be a lawyer in his previous life, walked me through every single contract and family document, through the legal pursuits, through every single process that is about to be started.

The end result was better than any of us could deem possible, because my greedy control freak of a father built a structure where he had every possible right and influence across every single corporation, including the foundation.

And now, I do.

When they are all gone, I get up and stare for one moment at Downtown Manhattan. If I could, I’d burn this building down.

A knock on the glass door.

I turn.

“There is a woman downstairs; she’d like a word with you.”

“I don’t do audiences,” I say.

“She told me you’d say that; she also said you’d very much like to hear what she has to say.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance.

“What’s her name?”