C6 Mrs. Ex wife... A force to be reckoned with

"So, tell me, how many of you think this little escapade was worth your jobs?"

The question, uttered in a deceptively calm voice, had everyone sweating like pigs in a butcher's shop.

Monique leveled her cold gaze on her audience.

The lobby picture and mocking comments had already ignited a fire within her, but the purchasing department's venomous remarks were like pouring gasoline on an already raging inferno. Each word felt like a searing brand on her soul, fueled by a visceral need to shield her daughter from heartless cruelty.

The comments, dripping with disdain and judgment, were a relentless assault, leaving Monique grappling with a mix of anger, humiliation, and an overpowering urge to retaliate.

She didn't want her daughter to grow up stigmatized, feeling less than anyone. What happened today was just the tip of the iceberg. In the years to come, things would only get uglier.

The whispers, the judgment, the relentless scrutiny—Sahara deserved better than a life tainted by the shadows of gossip and cruelty. Monique was determined to shield her from the storm that threatened to darken their family's name.

Murmurs filled the room. No one dared to protest the threat; they had, after all, maliciously attacked her and her daughter. The fearless keyboard warriors had been turned into meek mice. Given a chance to redo things or delete that part of their lives, they would, but in this world, there was no medicine for regret.

The harsh reality settled in the room, a collective acknowledgment of the consequences they now faced for their thoughtless actions.

They could only hope that Monique could rescind her decision. If not, then they were doomed. Who would want to hire someone who maliciously badmouthed their employer?

Certainly not someone in their right mind. The weight of their imprudent words loomed over them, casting a shadow on their professional futures.

They could only keep mum, pray in their hearts, and cast apologetic looks at Monique. Beaumont Corp was one of the best companies in the country. It hadn't been easy for them to secure a job in the company, let alone obtain such high-paying positions.

The realization of the gravity of their actions sank in, and the price of their reckless behavior now threatened their hard-earned professional standing.

Clinton, standing beside her, seemed torn between rage and shame. His once-confident stance faltered under the weight of public scrutiny, his gaze flitting between the projector screen and the faces of his employees, most of whom avoided his eyes.

It hadn't been his intention for things to escalate to this point. He loved his children equally. Just because he had left Monique for Lydia didn't mean Sahara was less important than Alex. If Sahara were to grow up and be faced with these rumors, wouldn't he have failed as a father?

Just as he was thinking of how to deal with the situation, suddenly, a shrill laugh pierced the quiet room, snapping everyone's attention back to the frozen trio.

Monique smirked. Alas, some people just didn't know when to accept defeat.

"Ms. James, seems like you have something to say."

Sarah James, the youngest of the trio, the one who had been the most vocal in the elevator and shamelessly took videos, had finally found her voice. It was a twisted, hysterical laughter, bordering on a sob.

"It's just a joke," she choked out, her voice cracking. "We didn't mean anything by it."

"Just a joke?" Monique countered, her voice now razor-sharp. "Is that so? Tearing down someone, a child at that for your amusement is a joke? Sharing private, hurtful words with impunity? Was it a joke when you called my daughter pathetic? When you ridiculed her pain?"

Sarah's face crumbled, her mask of defiance dissolving into tears. The other two women, emboldened by Sarah's breakdown, remained silent, their faces betraying a mixture of fear and defiance.

Clinton, emboldened by the shift in power, stepped forward. "Monique, please," he started, his voice a pleading murmur. "This isn't the place for..."

His words were cut short by the sharp ring of Monique's laughter. It was a cold, mirthless sound that sent shivers down spines and tightened stomachs.

"Oh, this is exactly the place," she declared, her gaze sweeping across the room, encompassing every guilty face. "This is where we confront the consequences of our actions, where we learn that words, even digital ones, carry weight. Today, I will show you what happens to gossiping hyenas. You are all fired, go and pack your stuff and get the hell out of my company."

No sooner had she uttered the words than an uproar rose. Wails and cries of disbelief echoed through the room. They were family-oriented people, with wives, children, aging parents, and a ton of other responsibilities. How would they survive after this? Just how?

‘’You can't do that!" Sarah shrieked, her voice laced with a desperate defiance. "You have no right to throw your weight around here! You're just... just an abandoned woman!"

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"Sarah!" Clinton bellowed.

Monique paused, her gaze a glacial lagoon. "Abandoned?" she echoed, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "Perhaps you should choose your vocabulary more carefully, Miss James.’’

"Why, Mr. Clinton, it's the truth, isn't it?"

"Shut your mouth!" he bit out. "Security, take her out!"

"There is no need to.’’ Monique raised her hand and stopped the security.

"Mr. Clinton, if you do this and let her throw her weight around, where does that put Ms Lydia? Where does she put her face when she comes back?"

Monique noted the subtle nods of heads.

Murmurs filled the room.

"Sarah is right; Mrs. Lydia is the rightful lady of the company."

"Mrs. Monique is such a bully; why can't she just walk away quietly?"

"My heart bleeds for Mrs. Lydia. She must want to vomit blood when she hears this..."

"Such a vicious woman; why can't she let go?"

"This is so awkward."

"I feel bad for Mr. Clinton.”

Sarah, emboldened by the murmurs of agreement, puffed up her chest.

"No?" she sneered, her voice regaining its edge. "Then explain this, Mrs. Ex-wife. Why are you here, disrupting the peace? What gives you the right to think you can fire us?"

Clinton, pale as a ghost, intervened, his voice a strained bellow. "Sarah! Enough!"

But Sarah, fueled by a misguided loyalty and the intoxicating prospect of public humiliation, ignored him. "No, Mr. Clinton," she declared, turning back to Monique. "It's time for the truth to be spoken. Lydia is the rightful lady of the company.’’

Sarah pointed an accusatory finger at Monique.‘’You're just a nuisance, a thorn in her side."

Monique smiled, a slow, predatory curve that sent chills down Sarah's spine. "Sarah James, Lydia Jones, secretary," she remarked, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. "It seems she's taught you well."

‘’Monique!’’ Clinton growled in warning.

"I'm merely defending her rights, as well as my own." Sarah puffed out her chest, mistaking audacity for power.

"And exactly what rights of hers are you so valiantly defending?" Monique challenged, her eyes narrowing.

Sarah faltered, the confidence draining from her face like water down a drain. "She... she's the rightful owner," she stammered, clutching at straws.

A chuckle escaped Monique's lips, a sound like ice cracking in the sun. "Owner?" she repeated, the word echoing in the hushed room. "Interesting interpretation, Miss James. But I assure you, ownership comes in many forms."

Clinton frowned at Monique ‘s statement.The direction of the conversation made him feel uneasy.

But before he could stutter another word, the doors swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man with the confidence of ten.

Ricardo Gwaba, lawyer extraordinaire and Monique's secret weapon. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he took in the scene.

"Ricardo," she greeted, the warmth in her voice a stark contrast to the icy blade she'd wielded moments before.

Ricardo, nodded curtly. "Am I late to the party?" he inquired, his gaze sweeping the room, taking in the stunned faces and trembling hands.

"No, Ricardo," Monique chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Clinton's spine. "The exciting part has just begun."

Ricardo stepped forward, briefcase in hand. He cleared his throat, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention.

"Mr. Clinton," he addressed, his gaze unwavering, "I'm here on behalf of Ms. Monique Shetty." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Ms. Shetty has decided to revoke the power of attorney she previously granted you."

Clinton stared at her, his face a mask of disbelief. "Monique? What... what do you mean?"

Ricardo's smile was glacial. "As of this moment, Mr. Clinton," he declared, laying a document on the table, "the old power of attorney is null and void."

The room erupted in a cacophony of gasps and murmurs. Sarah's face drained of color, her bravado replaced by a gnawing fear.

"But... but you can't do that!" Clinton sputtered, his voice cracking with desperation.

"Not entirely, Mr. Clinton," Ricardo countered. He reached for another document, his voice unwavering. "Ms. Shetty also owns 60% of the company shares, leaving you with a minority stake," Ricardo finished, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

Sarah paled, her triumphant smirk dissolving into a grimace of fear.

Clinton sank into his chair, his face ashen.

Monique, however, met Ricardo's gaze with a flicker of steel in her eyes.

"And what does that mean, Mr. Gwaba?" Clinton asked, his voice strained.

"It means, Mr. Clinton, that Ms. Shetty now has the majority vote and therefore, the controlling interest in Beaumont Inc." Ricardo's voice held a hint of satisfaction.

Monique smiled, a slow, deliberate curve that sent chills down Sarah's spine. "It means," she interjected, her voice like velvet-wrapped steel, "that certain undesired individuals will no longer be gracing these premises."

Her gaze swept across the room, landing on Sarah and her two cohorts, who cowered under her scrutiny. "Your incessant harassment and slander," she continued, her voice dripping with cold fury, "has made your continued presence untenable. Consider this your official termination."

A collective gasp filled the room as the full weight of Monique's statement hit them. Sarah's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The other employees exchanged nervous glances, unsure of their own fate.

"But you can't just fire us!" Sarah spluttered, her voice regaining its edge, desperate and brittle. "We have rights!"

Monique raised an eyebrow, her amusement momentarily replacing the anger in her eyes.

"Do you, Miss James? You and your colleagues spent the past few minutes hurling vile insults and baseless accusations at me, a shareholder and the one holding the power to make such decisions. Perhaps you should have considered your 'rights' before engaging in such blatant misconduct."

Ricardo stepped forward, a tablet in his hand. "Furthermore," he began, "Ms. Shetty is seeking legal action against each of you for slander and emotional distress. The documents outlining the specific charges and compensation amounts are currently being delivered to your personal devices."

A wave of panic washed over the room. Sarah clutched her phone, staring at the screen with horrified disbelief. The other employees checked their devices, their faces draining of color with each notification.

Monique watched them, a cold satisfaction settling in her heart. They had underestimated her, dismissed her as a broken woman. But Monique Shetty was far from broken.

As the stunned employees shuffled out of the room, Monique turned to Clinton, her expression unreadable. "It seems, Mr. Clinton," she said, her voice laced with quiet steel, "the future of Beaumont Inc. is no longer in your hands."

Clinton met her gaze, a mixture of regret and anger swirling in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Monique, her purpose fulfilled for now, turned and walked out, leaving him alone with the wreckage of his own choices.