I grew up sweeping warehouse floors, labeling boxes after school, and listening to him explain payroll like it was sacred. “People don’t work for numbers,” he used to say. “They work for families waiting at home.”
After he d:ied from a sudden heart attack, I expected grief.
I did not expect a takeover.
When I stepped out of the elevator, employees were gathered in the main office, whispering anxiously. Madison stood at the front in a white blazer, holding a tablet like a weapon.
“As the new CEO,” she announced, “I will be restructuring leadership immediately.”
My brother, Evan, stood beside her, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
My father’s assistant, Grace, looked as if she had been crying.
I walked forward slowly. “Madison, what are you doing?”
She turned, and her smile became sharper.
“Well, look who finally showed up,” she said. “The grieving princess.”
A few employees looked down.
I kept my voice calm. “You have no authority to make announcements here.”
She laughed. “And you do?”
Evan muttered, “Olivia, don’t make a scene.”
That hurt more than Madison’s smug expression. My brother and I had buried our father together seventy-two hours earlier. Now he was standing beside the woman trying to erase me from his legacy.
Madison stepped closer. “You can’t get a job here. Do something small that is worthy of you.”
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