At the family dinner, my husband slammed the divorce papers onto the table. “Sign it. I’m done with your pathetic rural face.” His mother sneered, “My son’s a director now. He deserves better.” I smiled, lifted my phone, and made a single call. “Execute it.” Then I looked straight at him. “You probably don’t know… your director position exists because I approved it.” He froze. “W–what are you saying?” I put down my phone calmly. “I’m saying… you’re fired.”

David paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What? What kind of nonsense are you talking about now? Are you delusional? The stress has finally broken your mind.”

My smile widened. “The company that you are so proud to be the ‘CEO’ of… ‘Innovate Dynamics,’ I believe it’s called… is a recent acquisition. Did the board not inform you of the details of the takeover? Did you not read the fine print in your own employment contract, the one that names the parent corporation?”

Brenda gasped, a small, choked sound, her wine glass freezing halfway to her lips. She understood finance far better than her son. She understood what the word ‘takeover’ meant. She was beginning to understand that they had not just made a mistake; they had committed financial suicide.

I pointed a single, steady finger directly at David. “Innovate Dynamics is now a wholly-owned subsidiary of a private equity corporation called M.C. Holdings. The corporation my father founded, and of which I inherited 60% of the controlling shares last week upon the final settlement of his estate. Your boss, David, is not the board. Your boss… is me. And you are terminated. Effective immediately.”

David and his mother were utterly speechless, their faces a comical, grotesque mask of shock and disbelief. “You… you can’t do that!” David finally stammered, his voice a pathetic squeak, the blustering CEO replaced by a terrified little boy. “I’m the CEO! I have a contract!”

“You were the CEO,” I stated, my voice as hard as diamond. “And your contract has a termination clause for gross misconduct, which, I believe, attempting to defraud a majority shareholder in a divorce settlement certainly qualifies as. I just spoke to Ms. Vance, who has already conferred with Mr. Peterson, the Chairman of the Board whom I appointed last month. He agrees with my decision. Your termination papers will be messengered to you in the morning.” I took the divorce papers and placed them neatly on the table. Then, from my handbag, I produced another, thicker folder and placed it beside them. “Sign this,” I said, pushing the divorce papers towards him. “And then, you and your mother can pack your bags and move out of the house you think you own.”