Chapter 4 - The Eight-Month Long GameRichard realized the game was entirely up. The charm, the flattery, and the arrogant corporate posturing vanished, replaced by desperate, cornered malice.
He leaned across the table, glaring at me with raw hatred.
“You planned this,” Richard hissed, his voice trembling. “You took that waitress job on purpose. You’ve been stalking us.”
“Stalking you?” I let out a calm, cold laugh. “Richard, you fired me eight months ago from Cole Meridian Financial without severance, blackballed me from every regional compliance firm in the city, and forced me to abandon my master’s thesis because I refused to sign off on your fraudulent balance sheets.”
I stepped closer to the edge of the table, my voice ringing with absolute clarity.
“You thought I would just disappear into the background. You thought that by reducing me to 'the help,' you’d never have to look me in the eye again. But you forgot one simple rule of finance: compliance analysts never forget a bad ledger.”
Khalid Al-Rashid looked up at me, a slow, appreciative smile finally breaking across his stern face. He turned his gaze back to the ruined executives.
“Mr. Cole,” Khalid said smoothly, standing up and buttoning his jacket. “Your son called me oil money and assumed I would sign anything if flattered. It appears he was correct about one thing: I care deeply about my investments. But I care even more about integrity.”
May you like
Khalid reached out across the table, grabbed the multi-million-dollar partnership contract, and tore it cleanly down the middle in one decisive motion.
“The deal is dead,” Khalid declared.
