Chapter 9 - THE STOLEN BLUEPRINT
We spent the next hour speaking with the remaining guests,
reassuring them that the company’s operations would continue without delay.
The reporters were eager for statements,
but I kept my answers short,
focusing on the future of the company and the protection of our employees.
By midnight,
the rooftop had cleared,
leaving only the staff clearing the tables and the empty glasses scattered around.
Daniel and I walked down to the executive suite,
where the real work was about to begin.
The office was quiet,
the desk where Nathaniel had sat for ten years looking cold and abandoned.
On the mahogany surface sat a leather-bound journal,
its pages filled with his handwriting,
detailing his plans for the future.
I picked it up,
flipping through the pages,
seeing the drawings of the resorts,
the calculations of profit margins,
and the lists of people he wanted to replace.
My name was at the top of that list,
with a red line drawn through it.
He had planned to force me out by the end of the month,
using a clause in our marriage contract that I had allegedly signed.
He did not know that Daniel had found the forgery three weeks ago,
having the signature analyzed by a forensic expert.
We had kept that information secret,
waiting for the perfect moment to present it to the court.
“He really thought he was smarter than everyone else,”
Daniel said,
sitting on the edge of the desk,
his tie loosened.
“He thought because he could talk well,
he could do whatever he wanted.”
“It’s a common disease among men like him,”
I said,
tossing the journal into the wastebasket.
“They confuse luck with genius,
and loyalty with weakness.”
I walked over to the safe behind the painting,
entering the code that Nathaniel had never bothered to change.
Inside lay the original blueprints for the expansion project,
the ones I had spent three years designing in my study.
They were beautiful,
precise,
incorporating sustainable energy and modern aesthetics in a way Nathaniel could never understand.
He had tried to sell them to a foreign competitor,
claiming them as his own work,
to fund his escape with Sienna.
But the patents were registered in my name,
and the design rights had been locked in my personal trust since the beginning.
I held the blueprints in my hands,
feeling the texture of the heavy paper,
knowing that they were safe now.
May you like
The company would build them,
but my name would be the only one on the plaque at the entrance.
