Chapter 2 - The Snake At The Table
"Abby! Hey, sis, thank God you picked up," Blake’s voice dripped with an exaggerated, breathy sympathy that made my skin crawl.
"What is it, Blake?" I answered, casually placing the call on record through my secondary tablet.
"Look, I just saw those horrific articles circulating online about the user-inflation allegations," he sighed, feigning deep sorrow. "Dad is having a complete coronary in the boardroom. The regional press is blowing up our phones asking if Morse Development is tied to the scandal."
"Are you?" I asked plainly, testing the waters.
A brief, awkward pause hung in the air before he forced a strained chuckle.
"Of course not! But you know how Charlotte society talks. Listen, Abby, Dad and I just had an emergency meeting with our securities attorneys. We think there’s a way out of this before NovaCare cancels the wire transfer and sues you into federal prison."
"Is that so?"
"NovaCare has a reputation clause," Blake urged, his tone shifting into rapid salesmanship. "If Dad steps in publicly, issues an equity backing guarantee through our primary development fund, and absorbs Meridian under our umbrella, we can calm the media down. We take the reputational hit for you, settle with the regulators, and salvage your payout."
"And what does Morse Development want in exchange for this heroic rescue?" I asked softly.
"Just standard management restructuring," Blake said smoothly, as if reciting lines rehearsed in front of a mirror. "Voting control of the board, full assignment of your next-generation predictive triage patents, and a temporary step-down from your executive chair until the dust settles. Dad even said he'd let you keep twenty percent of the common stock!"
The sheer audacity of the scheme took my breath away.
They were offering to steal eighty percent of my life’s work, strip my intellectual property, and brand me an incompetent child while parading themselves as my benevolent saviors.
"Tell Dad I'm reviewing my options," I said evenly. "I'll give him my answer at the Charlotte Regional Business Gala on Friday."
May you like
"Friday? Abby, you don't have until Friday! The press is going to eat you alive by Wednesday!"
"Then I suggest you buy a front-row seat to watch," I said, and tapped the red disconnect button without waiting for his reply.
