She took a slow step toward Richard. The vice president flinched. I spent the night freezing on a bench, Chia continued, her voice deadly calm. Until one of my own underpaid, overworked rooting specialists picked me up off the street. A man whose hazard pay you cut two years ago to pad your quarterly bonus.
Richard Abelardo stood frozen against the kitchen counter. His brain was misfiring. The woman who had been shivering under his motheaten blanket. The woman who had politely thanked him for generic tea was Chia Kinsley, the CEO, the sole heir to the conglomerate that dictated every miserable, exhausting minute of his working life. Chia, please," Richard pleaded, stepping backward until he bumped into the television crate.
"Your brother? My brother is currently committing corporate treason," Chia interrupted sharply. "And you, Richard, are holding the ladder for him. Give me your phone. " "I what? " "Your phone now. " Richard fumbled in his breast pocket and handed over a sleek silver smartphone. "Chia took it. " She didn't break eye contact with Richard as she dialed a number from memory.
She put it to her ear. The room was dead silent, save for the hissing of the radiator. Marcus, Chia said into the phone. It's Chia. Yes, I'm alive.
Listen to me carefully. I am invoking clause 42 of the founders charter. Freeze all board assets. Lock my brother out of the tower. Yes, right now.
I'll be there in 30 minutes. She hung up and dropped the phone into Richard's pocket. You're fired, Richard, she said softly. Clear out your desk by noon or I'll have security physically throw you through the glass doors. Richard opened his mouth to speak, looked at the two security guards who were now pointedly ignoring him, and snapped his mouth shut.
He turned and practically ran out the door, his footsteps fading rapidly down the hall. The two security guards remained. "Miss Kinsley," one of them said respectfully. "We have a car waiting downstairs. " "Wait outside," she commanded. They nodded and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind them.
The quiet settled back into the apartment. Chia stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, the armor fully locked back into place. Then slowly, she turned to look at Abalardo. Abelardo didn't know what to do. Should he apologize?
Should he ask for a raise? His mind was entirely blank. I'll have these clothes laundered and returned to you, Chia said, gesturing to the sweatpants. Keep them, Abalardo managed to say. They look better on you.
A genuine, startlingly bright smile broke across her face, softening the harsh lines the morning had carved into it. Abalardo Web, sector 4. Yes, ma'am. Thank you for the tea and the couch. She walked toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob.