Chapter 3 - The Board's Decree
The wedding did not resume that afternoon. The priest, pale and visibly shaken, asked everyone to clear the sanctuary as security guards stepped in to manage the chaos.
By 6:00 PM, the story had breached every major financial and tabloid outlet in the country. Video footage—captured by guests and covert journalists—of Olivia ripping off my wig while Margaret laughed had gone viral. The hashtag #BlackwoodCruelty was trending number one globally.
Inside the VIP lounge of the grand hotel adjacent to the chapel, Margaret sat on a velvet sofa, furiously pacing back and forth while her legal advisors stammered over speakerphone.
"Fix this!" Margaret screamed into the phone. "Issue a statement! Say it was a medical episode! Say Olivia had a nervous breakdown!"
"It won't work, Mrs. Blackwood," her lead attorney replied nervously. "The audio recording was leaked directly to The Wall Street Journal. The public reaction is catastrophic. Blackwood Medical stock has dropped 14% in after-hours trading."
"Where is Ethan?" Olivia cried, clutching a glass of gin with trembling hands. "He can't just leave us here! He's the CEO!"
The double doors of the lounge swung open.
I walked in first. I was no longer wearing the ruined wedding gown. I wore a tailored, charcoal-grey pantsuit, my bald head exposed proudly under the chandelier light, flanked by two senior corporate attorneys carrying leather briefcases. Ethan walked half a step behind me, his expression unreadable.
Margaret snapped her head toward us, her eyes narrowing into slits.
"You," Margaret spat, pointing a manicured finger at me. "You brought this filth into our family! You set us up!"
"Sit down, Margaret," I said calmly, taking a seat at the head of the mahogany conference table.
"How dare you call me by my first name!" she shrieked. "You are nothing! A sickly orphan living off leftovers! Ethan, tell your little charity case to leave the room so we can manage this crisis!"
Ethan didn't move. He stood behind my chair, resting his hands firmly on my shoulders. "Clara calls the shots now, Mother."
Olivia laughed bitterly. "Are you out of your mind, Ethan? She’s a nobody!"
My chief legal officer, Arthur Vance, stepped forward and opened a thick blue folder, sliding two documents across the polished table toward Margaret.
"Mrs. Blackwood," Arthur said in a clipped, professional tone. "As of 9:00 AM this morning, prior to the ceremony, the purchase of the 32% floating shares of Blackwood Medical Group held by the private investment firm Vanguard Legacy was finalized. Combined with the 19% equity inherited from her father’s estate, Mrs. Clara Vance-Blackwood now holds a controlling 51% majority interest in the corporation."
Margaret froze. The color drained completely from her lips. "That’s impossible. Vanguard promised those shares to my brother!"
"Vanguard was an offshore holding company set up by my late father fifteen years ago," I said softly, leaning back. "My father built the diagnostic patents your company uses to generate 70% of its revenue. You spent ten years trying to squeeze my family out. But while I was sitting in chemotherapy, watching my hair fall out, I wasn't just praying to survive. I was reading your financial ledgers."
May you like
I tapped the document on the table.
"And as the majority owner of Blackwood Medical, I have called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning," I continued, looking Margaret straight in the eye. "Agenda item number one: The immediate termination of Olivia Blackwood’s executive position, and the total revocation of Margaret Blackwood’s living stipend."
