Authors: D.S.
~*~
A
headache was building near the base of her skull.
“I never said I had any intention of selling
OsCorp. My father entrusted me with the care and keeping of his company for ten
years after his death and I intend to fulfil that trust.”
“What about the
atelier
?”
“It will remain closed,”
Ophelia replied.
“I will not know how much work I have ahead of me until I meet
with the department heads and hold debriefing sessions. Nevertheless, I am
positive that there will be too much work for me to return to Golden Rose
Design any time soon.”
“We will not be getting married.”
“I do not believe I started this
conversation by saying that I loved you any less than I did when I left three
days ago, Eduardo.”
Ophelia was working to keep her voice even.
“I began by saying that I received control of OsCorp Industries and
that I have a lot of work ahead. I did not say
anything
about cancelling
the wedding. We will have to wait and see how things turn out.”
As she said this, her shoulders began to ache. Ophelia could
almost see her fiancé’s response written in the air in front of her.
“I don’t think you’re committed to this relationship
anymore.”
Ophelia’s breath hissed out from between her teeth.
“If you think for one minute—”
“But perhaps I should be less worried about
my
wedding
and more worried about
yours
. Tell me …have you and your bodyguard
eloped?”
“Ophelia?”
David entered the library and spotted a form swathed in blue
sprawled on the divan.
“Ophelia, are you all right?”
The young woman sat up, a fall of auburn hair framing her
reddened face.
“I am cancelling the handfasting.”
“Did Eduardo say something to make you upset?”
“He said…he said…”
Ophelia’s next
words caught on a sob and came out as a near shriek.
“Eduardo
asked if we had eloped!”
David crossed the room in a few easy strides and took her
into his arms as he slid onto the divan. He silently handed her tissue after
tissue until he felt that she was well enough to speak.
“Is it possible that you might have said something to give
him that idea?”
“I have not mentioned your name recently!”
Ophelia protested.
“I told him that
Athair
had left me
the company and quite a few other things, and when I had finished, Eduardo
asked me when I intended to sell OsCorp.”
“What was your reply?”
“I repeated that
Athair
has been
reminding me of my duty to House Osborn for many years.”
She reached up
and squeezed her bodyguard’s hands.
“I told him that my father
had asked that I run his company for a decade after his death and that I have
every intention of honouring that request.”
“I assume he asked about the handfasting?”
“I told Eduardo that the ceremony would have
to wait until things are a little more settled here.”
“That was
all
you said?”
“It was all I
could
say!”
Ophelia remonstrated.
“When I mentioned postponing our
handfasting, he said that he thought I was not committed to our relationship
any longer and then levelled the accusation of infidelity!”
“You didn’t give him an idea when he might see you again?
Even if it meant you had to fly him out here?”
Ophelia tried to pull away, but David held her fast.
“Are you saying that the dissolution of my
engagement is all
my
fault? That I
deserve
this pain, because I
did nothing to soothe his huge Spanish ego?”
“I’m saying that jealousy has made Eduardo irrational.” David
handed her a few more tissues, as the change in topic had caused more tears.
“You came into additional wealth, a new home overseas and many other things he
may be unaware of. He expected you to ask him along and instead, you told him
to stay home like a ‘good little boy’.
“I’m not making excuses for your former fiancé; rather, I am
reminding you that under the veil of envy, any man could be held suspect. Even
your own brother.”
Ophelia closed her eyes and tried to relax by synchronizing
her breathing with David’s.
“Will he come back?”
“If he truly loves you, Ophelia, then yes,” her bodyguard
replied. “If he does not, then consider it a blessing. Be thankful for the
lessons you have learned from this relationship, and that the engagement ended
before you were stuck in a loveless marriage.”
Thursday,
January 2, 2003
“Who is in charge of the Bathurst Project?”
“We are!” chorused a pair of voices.
“Your preliminary report is overdue! Dr
Osborn’s notes say that he granted you an extension shortly before Thanksgiving
and recommended that none further be given. Have the report on my desk by the
start of business on Monday.”
Natalie, Ophelia’s new assistant had met the new owner and
her bodyguard at the front entrance of the Norman E. Osborn Executive Tower—the
rest of the crowd had accumulated as the trio made its way to Ophelia’s office.
Some were taking notes on their BlackBerrys, while others were holding out
digital recorders to catch the new chief executive officer’s every word. David
strongly suspected that the rest were hangers-on, looking for the prestige
afforded by being in Ophelia’s entourage, but as long as they were not posing a
threat, he held his silence.
“I need to see those responsible for the
Enfield bid immediately upon arrival. We—”
Ophelia stopped and cursed in the first language that came to
mind.
“Mr Westbrooke?”
“Yes, Ms. Osborn?”
Ophelia’s abrupt halt had created a minor dust-up, causing
her bodyguard to be delayed in reaching her side.
“What do you think this looks like?”
David stepped protectively toward Ophelia before following
her gesture down the corridor.
“Two security guards, Madame.”
“Did you post them?”
“No, Madame.” He looked at Ophelia. “I am the only protection
you need.”
“Ms Thomas?”
“Yes, Ms. Osborn?” Her voice came
from somewhere near Ophelia’s left elbow as Natalie struggled to her feet.
“Did you post these gentlemen outside my
office?”
There was a pause as Natalie turned her gaze in that
direction.
“No, Ms. Osborn. I figured you’d bring your own security
detail, if you had any at all.”
Ophelia shot a look at her assistant and her bodyguard
simultaneously. After a moment, the young executive strode away from the group,
her bodyguard struggling to keep up.
“I assume you have a plan?” David pressed.
“Confront them,”
Ophelia replied.
“My little brother is not going to scare me away from
my
company. By this point, it is trespassing.”
Ophelia reached the end of the corridor in record time and
held out her hand.
“Identification badges.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked the guard on her left.
“Give me your identification badges.”
The guards looked at each other, shrugged and handed them
over. Ophelia maintained eye contact with both as she ripped the badges in
half.
“Call human resources later this afternoon
and tell them you need to schedule your disciplinary hearing. For now, you are
fired.”
Both men stared.
“Leave, before I
have my bodyguard remove you.”
The two men wasted no time in departing, grumbling all the
while about their supposedly indestructible badges.
“Go
away, Ophelia.”
Harry didn’t bother to look up when she entered.
“Is that any way to talk to your sister?”
Ophelia asked.
“Or your new superior?”
“That stuff you said in the attorney’s office was bullshit,”
he replied. “I’ve never heard a bigger fairytale in my life!”
“You are about to hear a bigger one.”
Ophelia leaned over Harry’s desk and said in a low voice,
“Have
you heard the tale of the boy who was arrested for trespassing? I hear it is intriguing.”
He finally met his sister’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.”
“I did not…”
Harry smiled.
“…but I saw my executive assistant dialling
her mobile as I walked in here.”
Ophelia smirked.
“I
believe she was intent on ringing the
Gardaí
.”
“If she wasn’t, there were about a dozen of your employees
who were,” David added.
Harry’s face fell. “You don’t deserve OsCorp.”
“And you do not have the intelligence
required to run it! We have a bit of a problem, it seems!”
He stared at her until Natalie peeked through the door.
“A Detective Wilson to see you, Ms. Osborn.”
~*~
“I
hear you had some excitement this morning.”
“If you call an uncooperative brother that
required the presence of a
bleachtaire
—a
detective—before he would relinquish his hold on the company, then yes, I
suppose I did.”
“A welcome replacement, I am sure.”
David had agreed to stand outside Ophelia’s office as she
interviewed each of the members of management. Up to this point, the process
had been tedious, but Ophelia was beginning to wonder if she wanted to part
from this gentleman any time soon.
“Not to say that Mr. Osborn wasn’t perfectly capable,”
Richard Welker demurred. “But Dr. Osborn spoke so highly of you that I had
begun to think that we would be receiving a rare jewel if something ever happened
to him.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but I ask that you
reserve judgment until you know for certain whether I am worth all the compliments.
“You have been with OsCorp Industries
for…twenty-two years, now?”
“Twenty-five.”
“I am sorry…your file must be out of date.
How long have you been a member of management?”
“Since the early nineties.”
“Your position…manager of central city projects?”
Richard nodded.
“In your honest opinion, could the company
do without such a position?”
“I see few actual projects. My position seems to require
filling out a lot of paperwork that probably any assistant could do.”
“Excellent. Yours will be the first position
I eliminate.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are absolutely right. Why have a
gentleman with a doctorate in chemistry perform tasks that any menial could do?
You will be of much more use elsewhere. That is why I will reduce my personal
responsibilities by making you chief administrator of the Ophelia R. Osborn
Laboratory Complex.”
Ophelia’s previously grave demeanor broke into a smile.
“I trust you will like it in New Rochelle? Especially when there is
a signing bonus included that will facilitate your move?”
The doctor’s sigh of relief was nearly audible as he rose and
held out his hand. “It would be my pleasure, as your new administrator, to take
you on a tour of the tower.”
“All the research and testing has been taken out of this building?”
“Research and development has been
moved to the engineering compound on Long Island. The main building in Commack
has three floors aboveground and two levels of basements, extending some miles
belowground. As you might imagine, the laboratories have all been moved to the
complex in New Rochelle, save for the small, low clearance level laboratory
here in the tower.”
“Is it used very
often?”
“Not since Dr. Osborn and the rest
of the executives assembled the current set of laboratory regulations.”
Richard opened a door and graciously waited for Ophelia to
pass.
“This particular laboratory appears to have become a sort of
‘testing graveyard’,” he continued as he glanced through a door at the end of
the passageway.
“While it appears largely unused, I understand that some of
the equipment in here has been utilized as recently as this past fall.”
Ophelia’s eyes followed Richard’s encompassing gesture. The
laboratory floor was littered with old machines and burnt-out computers covered
haphazardly with sheets; in the center of the room, however, stood a few items
that were clean enough to have been used the day before. One was a complex
setup that Ophelia recognized as an inefficient way to monitor vital signs,
while another was a glass-paneled chamber that easily cleared eight feet.
“Do you know where these items came from?”
“One rumor says that the tank was utilized in an engineering
bay in Commack; the other says that it is a vaporization chamber that was used
in lab C35 in New Rochelle.”
Intrigued, Ophelia stepped lightly down the stairs. As she
drew closer, the new chief science officer discovered that the chamber had two
entrances—a large pair of folding doors in the back and a set of smaller,
narrower doors that could only be entered if the subject was strapped onto the
gurney that currently stood inside. She walked around the chamber, careful not
to touch a centimeter.
“Any ideas what this was used for?”