He had married the CEO’s daughter six months earlier and arrived with consultant language, shiny shoes, and a plan to “refresh stagnant talent.”
He did not know how the company worked.
He did not know which vendors were honest, which clients paid late, or which old handshake deals kept our factories running.
He knew how to make slides.
And he knew how to smile while removing people who remembered too much.
“You’re taking this well,” he said.
I lifted my eyes.
Around us, the office was silent.
People stared over their monitors, afraid to breathe too loudly.
My assistant, Nina, stood by the copier with tears in her eyes.
The warehouse supervisor had come upstairs for inventory reports and now looked like he wanted to swing at someone.
I closed the box.
“Have a good morning,” I said.
Martin blinked. He expected pleading. Anger. Maybe tears.
He got manners.
